M is for Magical Silliness
by sapphire blue-ruby red roses
Summary: When Stiles enters Hogwarts late, coming in during his third year, really, how much trouble could a boy two years behind get into? The answer is a lot. Harry Potter AU, sterek
1. Chapter 1: Finding a Friend

**I swear to you, this started out as a one-shot that was supposed to be something cute, but turned into something huge. I don't really know how it happened. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or the Hogwart's world.**

Chapter 1: Finding a Friend

Stiles let out a shuddering breath as the last First Year was called to the stool, the Sorting Hat placed on her head. She scampered off towards the Ravenclaws, a strangely familiar strawberry blonde sitting next to a boy switching songs on a phone, smiling invitingly at her. He too seemed strangely familiar, but he couldn't place their faces.

Doing a cursory glance around the Great Hall, actually taking in some of the faces, he spotted at least another that looked like he could be someone he knew. He sat at the Slytherin table, seeming oblivious to the boy still standing on his own.

All eyes turned to him as Professor Argent rolled the scroll of parchment back up, sliding it into a deep pocket of his somewhat shabby robes, though from age instead of cost. Stiles' chest felt tight, his breathing hard and shallow. He resisted the urge to fish for the inhaler and medication he no longer carried with him. He thought he had grown out of his panic attacks.

Headmaster Deaton smiled reassuringly at him as he stood, running his hands down his robes. He looked across the Great Hall, at all the young faces staring back at Stiles, then at the teachers to his sides. "To those who are new, welcome to Hogwarts. To those returning, welcome back. Before we begin the feast, we have one last sorting to do. Mr. Stilinski has come to us in his third year from a muggle school in Beacon Hills, California on the west coast of America. Due to his special circumstances, he was delayed in starting here, but will none the less be joining his fellow Third Year peers in their day to day classes." Immediately, whispers burst out around the hall, outraged and wondering and concerned. "But first, I'd say we need to find Mr. Stilinski a House." He motioned Stiles forward with a kind smile.

Silence, thick and wary, filled the hall, all waiting to see where he would be placed.

Stepping forward on shaky legs, sliding onto the stool, Stiles gripped his wand through his robes as the Sorting Hat was lowered onto his head, dropping to cover his eyes and ears. Giggles ran through the students. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck as he pushed the hat up onto his forehead. He could feel his wand already beginning to burn a hole through his robes.

"Very interesting. A mother from Gryffindor, a muggle father worthy of the same, but you could belong to many. Daring and brave enough to run with wolves, loyal and hardworking. Smart, very, very smart, but in an unorganized way. Resourceful and cunning in a way others won't be able to match. Which would be best, I wonder?" the Hat mused in Stiles' ear, humming as it slowly decided where to place him. "Let's see… I'll have to say… Slytherin!"

A cheer rose from the Slytherins, Stiles slipping from the stool as the Sorting Hat was plucked from his head to rush for his new House mates. He slipped into an empty space between a sickly looking girl with dull, curly blonde hair smiling shyly at him and a boy with an identical twin stationed at the Hufflepuff table.

"And with that, let the feast begin." Deaton clapped his hands, the food appearing before them. "I hope we have a wondrous year."

…..

It was nearly Christmas Vacation when Stiles felt eyes boring into the back of his head as he leaned over a Seventh Year's Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. He'd nicked it from a table in the common room when no one had claimed it or come looking for it. He'd thought he'd be safe in the library, but he'd been wrong.

Glancing surreptitiously over his shoulder towards the tuft of black hair poking out from behind a bookcase, he whispered a levitation charm. A surprised cry echoed from Stiles' victim. Bringing the boy forward, Stiles frowned, his eyebrows meeting in the middle of his forehead. "Who the hell are you?"

The boy, flipped upside down and his robes trailing the floor grinned widely. He hadn't gone for his wand, probably because Stiles had become known for hexing people who snuck up on him or made anything threatening gesture after that Fifth Year... There was a reason he hadn't made any friends since the beginning of the year, that and he was constantly looking to learn something new, especially since he'd come into his third year already ahead of half of his year.

"Dude, this is awesome! I mean, I'm getting king of lightheaded, but I've never been able to get that charm right. I'm kind of hopeless at Charms," the boy wheezed. Snaking a hand into his pocket, he pulled out an inhaler, taking a deep breath from it before returning it to his pocket.

"That's… muggle medication," Stiles said slowly, his eyebrows rising. "Oh crap, sorry!" he cried, fumbling his wand. Before he could softly lower the other boy to the floor, he crashed down. "Oh shit! I'm sorry!"

"It's fine, didn't hurt that much," the boy said, waving away Stiles' flapping, flustering hands and grinning, "My name is Scott McCall. You're Stilinski, right? What's your first name?"

"Appalling," Stiles replied, trying not to smile as Scott let out a burst of laughter, "Just call me Sitles. You're Madame McCall's son. Why do you have an inhaler? That's what muggles use to treat asthma."

Smiling and taking Stiles' outstretched hand, he told him, "Yeah, we know. I have asthma. Mom says that muggles invent helpful things just like wizards do. She says you don't always need magic for everything. Inhalers have always worked better for me than the potion for treating it. Plus, it doesn't taste as bad." He shrugged.

"Wow, I've… never heard of a witch or wizard praising muggles before," Stiles murmured, his dad immediately apparating into his mind. He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight.

"Well, my mom likes how muggles can't use magic for anything and yet still achieve so many things. She thinks the muggle world is remarkable," Scott explained.

"Tell her thank you, please," Stiles told him then frowned, "Why were you stalking me in the library?"

Scott's face lit up, cheeks going a rosy red. "No, I wasn't stalking you!" he said quickly, "I was trying to figure out how to introduce myself because I always see you alone, but you're like second in our year and I'm, well, we're not going to talk about where I am, and so I was a little intimidated, but I want to be your friend because you look lonely. I'm babbling, so I'm going to shut up now." Sealing his lips shut, he stared at Stiles with wide, imploring, puppy-dog eyes.

Stiles grinned. "You were intimidated by me? I'm like a twig with legs and arms. Why would you want to be my friend? **Nobody** wants to be my friend."

"That's not true! I do and so does my friend Isaac in Hufflepuff," Scott exclaimed indignantly, "We just don't know how to talk to you. We never hear you say anything, and… my mom kind of let it slip about your mom." His voice trailed off into an unintelligible whisper, his eyes on his shoes. "I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose a parent, if not to the extent that you have."

They were silent for a few moments, Stiles trying his damnedest not to cry, and Scott wishing he'd never opened his mouth.

"I'm really sorry," Scott started again, "My mom can be your mom too. It's just that, you look so lonely, and I don't want to see you sitting alone if we're both going to the same place anyway. I thought we could be friends and go together with the others."

His despair completely forgotten, even if for a few moments, Stiles stared at Scott. "What are you even talking about?"

Scott's eyes widened. "Dude, you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" Stiles ran his fingers agitatedly along his wand which sparked feebly.

Scott tracked the sparks like a kitten tracking a lazar pointer. "You're not the only one who live in Beacon Hills."

Stiles' hand stilled on the shaft of his wand. "Who else lives there? Scott, who **else** lives there?" He resisted from shaking him.

"Uh, let's see… Lydia Martin-"

"You mean, goddess of my life. We were in the same class since Kindergarten. It took me awhile to figure out who the strawberry blonde was, but once I paired up with her in potions, I figured it out."

Scott laughed. "Um, Jackson-"

"Asshole," Stiles corrected.

Snorting, Scott continued, "Erica Reyes and Matt Dahler from Slytherin. Bennett Smith, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey and some kid named Greenberg from Hufflepuff. Danny Mahealaui from Ravenclaw. Then there is Malia Tate from Gryffindor… oh, and the Hales. Bennett, Matt, and Greenberg are taking their holidays someplace else apparently."

Stiles eyes grew wide as he glanced away, fingers pressed to his mouth in thought. "I knew the Hales from somewhere." He glanced at Scott. "I don't know who most of those people are, but that explains why our class shrunk so drastically when I turned eleven. I got my letter, but I never suspected the others did too, besides Lydia. She was always brilliant and nothing short of amazing. But why did so many of us come from the same little, unremarkable town?"

"Dunno, but anyway, what do you say? Friends?" Scott stuck out his hand, grinning widely.

Stiles breathed out a laugh. "Sure, friends… I'm just wondering, why are we all flying if Madame McCall and Professor Hale are coming too? Can't they just apparate us?"

"Well, my mom is almost as bad as I am at any charm that doesn't involve healing. And apparently, Professor Hale since she's still fifteen, still kinda splices herself whenever she tries to apparate, so they just stay away from it." Scott shrugged.

"Wow, I never knew apparating was so hard."

"Neither did I."

Stiles did a double-take. "Wait… why is a fifteen-year-old teaching classes?"

"She's brilliant and kind of graduated early. I don't know! Why are you asking me?"

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "Because you've been here for two and a half years now."

"Stiles, you really think that means anything? I still get lost on my way to Herbology."

"Scott, that's your mom's class."

Scott spread his hands wide. "And my point is made."

…..

"Dude, I'm so tired, I could sleep for a week," Scott yawned as they were herded from the airport by Mr. Stilinski, who'd volunteered to pick everyone up seeing as the blizzard had made it nearly impossible to move, and Melissa, who'd travelled with them.

"If you do that, I'm not carrying you," Stiles told him jokingly. He, Scott and the rest had spent at the very least twenty-four hours stuck on flights and layovers trying to get back home. Now that they were in San Francisco, they had several hours worth of being in the car to look forward to. On the way over, the two had spent much of their time chattering together and the rest with Stiles, Isaac, Danny and Lydia trying to explain Apples to Apples and Cards Against Humanity to the half-bloods and pure-bloods.

It had been… eventful to say the least. Lots of shouting and loud banter punctuated by short periods of cat naps. Lydia, Stiles and Laura had all tied for most wins which wouldn't have happened if one Derek grumpy-cat Hale hadn't decided to join in on the last round and smoked all of them.

Melissa had secretly taken a number of pictures, the most memorable of which had been Laura pinning her brother to the floor in rage at not winning. It was the first time any of them had seen him smile or laugh.

Which brought them to the here and now with Stiles glancing at the other boy every few seconds, unable to get the sound of his laughter from his mind, and Scott pawing at him like a neglected.

"I'm sorry, guys," Sheriff Stilinski started from the front, starting the van and blasting the heater, "You're parents would have come, but we've asked them to stay in their homes, and we can't risk breaking down trying to drive you all home, so we'll be at my home until the storm clears."

Melissa turned in her seat as the entire van groaned tiredly, smiling at the group squished onto three benches. "When we get to Sheriff Stilinski's home, I'll see if I can reach your parents, just so they all know you're alright and such."

"Thank you, Madame McCall," Laura said, smiling tiredly beside the window, "I just hope the storm clears soon after we get there."

"I'm sure it will. Sheriff, you said there were blankets in the back? Stiles, could you grab those, please?"

"Sure!" he said, quickly unbuckling from his and Erica's shared seatbelt and crawling into the little trunk space the van provided. There wasn't even enough room to stack five lacrosse bags. They'd strapped their trunks to the roof of the can, and only Erica had an animal, a cat small enough to fit in a teacup slept curled in her jacket. The cat was meant to alert her if a seizure was on the horizon. Stiles still that it was actually an animagus.

"Blanket 1," he called, throwing it at the back of Isaac's head and earning a scowl from the usually reserved boy, "Pass that to Mama McCall." Without pause, he threw the next again at Isaac who snatched it from the air this time. "Blanket 2." The next he threw to Scott. "Blanket 3. And Blanket 4." Tucking the fourth under his arm, his favorite, he attempted to climb back over the seat without hurting anyone, but himself.

Leaning over the seat, he attempted to sliver back into his spot. Instead, he started to slip forward towards the floor. Flailing hand caught on a shirt, and warm hands quickly found their home on his waist. Laura giggled.

Prying his eyes slowly open, Stiles found himself face to face with Derek sassy-eyebrows Hale. He was a third crouched on the floor, a third on the seat, and another between Mr. Scowly's knees, though his eyebrows seemed thoroughly surprised.

"Hey, Stilinski," Jackson growled on the other side of Erica, "Can you be a little less gay?"

Snapping from his second-long revere of Derek, plopping back down in his seat, he spat back, "Hey, Jackson, can you be a little less of an asshole? Just for your snarky remarks, you can't share the blanket. Come closer Erica, the Hales and I will share with you." Unfolding the blanket, he threw it across the five of their knees.

…..

The Sheriff sighed as he made an attempt to flip on the lights. He brushed snow from stiles' hair before helping Melissa out of her coat. "Powers out, sorry kids. I'll get a fire started. Stiles, can you get the air mattresses and such?"

"K, Dad," Stiles replied, pulling his trunk towards the stairs, "Scott, dude, come help me."

Grinning, Scott trampled up the stairs behind Stiles. "So, this is your room?" Scott asked as he pushed into a room. In it, everything was in its proper place, not a typical thirteen-year-old's room, even one who'd been gone for three and a half months. A computer sat silently on a desk beside a slowly filling bookshelf. You could have bounced a coin off of his bed sheets. A picture of Stiles, his father, and a woman sat on the desk, the frame scratched and worn, but loved. "It's nice, I like it. Is that your mom?"

"Yeah, can you help me with these? There's like five. And then I have to get the blankets and pillows," Stiles asked, quickly diverting the conversation to something that didn't rip his heart into ever smaller pieces.

"Sure, I'll take those down." Taking the mattresses from him waiting, Scott couldn't help the question that spilled from his mouth. "Stiles, how did your mother die?"

Immediately, a picture frame right beside Scott's head shattered, a spider web spreading across the glass. A triangle of glass slipped from the frame, shattering against the floor.

"I'm so sorry," Stiles whispered, voice thick with tears as he stared at the frame. The picture was one of Stiles' mother pushing him on a swing, grinning just as wide as he usually did, thought much more genuine. His breath was coming hard, his pupils dilated with panic.

Multiple sets of footsteps thundered up the stairs. "Stiles, what was that?" the Sheriff asked as he crested the stairs, looking between the two boys, one shocked beyond words and the other dropping his head between his knees. "Stiles!" he rushed for the boy, pulling his shaking body into his arms.

"Scott, what happened?" Melissa cried, running to the boy. Her wand hand twitched, returning the glass to its original pristine state. Gently, she pushed his hair out of his wide eyes.

Scott clutched at the mattresses to his chest. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. I asked a question I shouldn't have and he had a magical outburst. I'm sorry!"

"No, Scott, it's fine. You didn't do anything wrong. Just calm down," Stiliski told the boy, ducking his head to whisper to his son.

At the top of the stairs, the Hales stood watching the commotion. At the bottom, the rest of the group looked up curiously at their backs.

With a glance over his shoulder, Derek released a sigh. Stepping passed his sisters, he offered, "Mr. Stilinski, if you'll allow me, I can try to calm him. I think the others are a little startled. I think they'll need reassuring." The Sheriff only glanced at him. "Sir, please, I've dealt with people who have attacks. I know some things that may calm him down faster."

After a moment of consideration, Stilinski nodded jerkily. "Okay, um, Melissa, can you come help me?" he asked, stepping to the side before ushering everyone else back down the stairs.

Slowly, Derek approached the boy as if he were a frightened animal. He could smell the terror, the aching pain, the longing and sorrow. He remembered it well. Crouching beside him, Derek reached out gentle hands for Stiles' arms. "Stiles, Stiles count with me. Slowly up to ten, feel everything you're feeling now. The loss, the ache, the tear that you think will never close, the fear. Feel it all, and when we get back to one, just let it go. Breath slowly, deeply, as calmly as you can. Can you do that, Stiles?"

Peaking out from between quavering fingers, he nodded the slightest bit.

"Good… one… two…"

Stiles echoed Derek, his voice small, insignificant, terrified. As they reached ten, he hid his face in his knees, releasing a feeble whimper that turned into a single sob, "Mom…"

"Now back. Ten… nine…" Stiles' shivering slowed to a stop and he lifted his head from between his knees. When they finally reached one, he was smiling shakily at the other boy.

"Thanks," he whispered, clawing his way to his feet using the cabinet door, ignoring Derek's outstretched hand. "How did you know what to do?"

Derek frowned, staring at the blankets and pillows Stiles was beginning to snatch up from the floor. Slowly, he bent and pulled several into his arms. "I lost someone important to me too, back when I was a First Year. She was… I really loved her, and then she was gone just like that."

Stiles' hands stilled on the comforters in his arms. He couldn't meet Derek's eyes. "How dod you do it? How do you manage to seem like it doesn't affect you every day? My mom, she's been gone for five years now, and I'm still having panic attacks." He laughed without humor.

"That's the thing," Derek started, hefting the comforters, "I'm thinking about it. I'm always regretting my decisions. I'm always feeling the gaping hole in my heart. I use it to push me forward, to keep living for the both of us so that maybe she won't hate me."

"But my mother was a great witch. She was Head Auror," Stiles whispered, "How can I live for the both of us when she was so extraordinary?"

"You'll just have to be just as extraordinary, make your life interesting."

Stiles nodded, still staring at the blankets. Finally, he found Derek's eyes watching him carefully, "That girl, what was her name?"

Derek blinked in surprise. "Paige," he forced out.

Grinning widely, Stiles said, "Then I'll just have to live for her too."

…..

It took two days for the storm to die down before Melissa could melt a path to the others' homes. For those two days, Stiles had woken up to the blissful warmth of being sandwiched between Derek the space heater and Scott while Melissa used his bed. For the rest of vacation, Scott and Stiles jumped between their housed like rabbits on speed. It wasn't until the day before they were meant to return to Hogwarts that the fear of returning crept in.

He'd be leaving his dad again for months with an empty house. He was going back to a House full of people who refused to talk to him because he was muggle born. He was going back to Lydia and Cora and Danny and Derek and all the others not talking to him anymore. It hurt to even think of it.

The only upside was that he'd be allowed to use magic again and of course, because Scott would be there. He could always skip class to talk to Mama McCall in the Infirmary.

'_At least I have them_,' Stiles thought as he clambered into the packed van the next day, taking his seat beside Derek.

**Oh god, I'm finally done typing this up. My hands hurt. I hope it was worth the read. See you for the next chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2: Activities in the Common Room

**The first song is 'Old Time Rock And Roll by Bob Seger', the second is 'Black Sheep by Gin Wigmore' and the third is 'Mucho Mumbo (Sway) by Shaft'.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Wolf charis, the Harry Potter world or the songs.**

Chapter 2: Activities in the Common Room

Poking his head surreptitiously around the corner leading to the boys' dormitories, Stiles scanned the common room for any signs of Slytherins. It was absolutely barren, void of any life save for Stiles himself.

A grin splitting across his face, he set his iPod and speakers at the entrance, putting it on blast. "Yes, today will be good," he said, pressing play as he ran back down the hall. As the first cords of the song filled the cavernous room, Stiles slid into the hallway intersection wearing only his socks, Batman boxers and one of Scott's cloaks. He wouldn't be missing it anytime soon.

'_Just take those old records off the shelf!_' he shouted into his wand, the tip shooting sparks towards the ceiling, '_I sit and listen to them by myself!_'

He moved his body to the beat of the music, dancing his way down the stairs. '_Today's music ain't got the same soul! I like that old time rock n' roll!_' His shoulders joined vigorously in the movement of his body, his head whipping back and forth.

'_Don't try to take me to a disco! You'll never even get me out on the floor! In ten minutes I'll be late for the door! I like that old time rock n' roll!_' If singing into a wand could be sassy, Stiles sure could manage it.

By the end of the song, he'd made a complete circuit around the common room, nearly fallen over twice with how hard he was moving, and was wondering exactly how he'd managed to transfigure a chandelier arm into a flamingo. As the next song started up, he was pulling on his next persona, pressing his hand to his cocked hip.

'_I got lots of jealous lovers that all wish they had me back_,' he sang, running a hand down his body. His sass was on full blast and suddenly, he was regretting not looking up a charm for temporary long hair. '_Got a pistol for a mouth, my old mama gave me that._' He pressed a finger right below he lower lip near the corner of his mouth.

As the next words spilled from his mouth, he began to strut. '_Making my own road out of gravel and some wine. And if I have to fall, then it won't be in your line_!' He shot out a finger, pointing at a non-existent participant.

'_Everybody's doing it so why the hell should I_?' He pointed to himself, looking confused and annoyed. '_Everybody's doing it so why the hell should I_!' He was channeling his inner Braedon, the stubborn Slytherin who had an affinity for weapons and always seemed to at least have a knife on her person.

"Stiles?" someone called over the music just as Stiles was yelling along with it, '_I'm a bad woman to keep! Make me mad, I'm not here to please! Paint me in a corner, but my color comes back. Once you go black, you never go back_!'

Startled, Stiles fell over the back of a couch in his rush to spin around. "Cheesy rice! Derek!" he shouted before he could stop his mouth.

Giving him the most confused look he possessed, Derek pulled Stiles to his feet. "Stiles, you do realize you're like white bread, right? You are nowhere near black."

"Doesn't mean I can't channel my inner black girl, she demands to have her spot light," Stiles snapped playfully, already moving to the beat of the new song, swaying his hips and twirling his wand as it spewed a small ring of blue flames.

Derek rolled his eyes.

"So, how did you get into the Slytherin common room?"

"Erica asked me if I could come check on you. She thought you were sick because you didn't meet her to go to breakfast this morning. She would have come herself, but she had to go see Melissa and she can't get into the boys' dormitories. So, you're just skipping classes then?"

Stiles smiled sheepishly, wanly. "I didn't mean to make her worry. I had an attack today in the bathroom while I was taking my shower. Then some of the other guys started getting in my face, and I kind of screamed at them before breaking down once they were gone. I didn't think I could do social today."

"Oh," Derek frowned, "Do you want me to leave then?"

"What? No! Who said that? Come dance with me, a good song is starting to play," Stiles said quickly, rushing towards the boy and grabbing his hands.

"I don't think-" Derek started, but Stiles cut him off.

"It's fine! Doesn't matter if you can dance or not, just move to the music!"

With the opening notes filling the room, Derek tried to force down a small smile as Stiles pulled him into a simple dance consisting of swaying back and forth, and doing something with their arms that Derek wasn't exactly sure how to explain. '_When the rhythm, rhythm starts to play, dance with me, make me sway_,' Stiles sang to him, grabbing Derek's hips and forcing them to move in a way that was most definitely unnatural for the thirteen-year-old, '_Like lazy ocean laps the shore, hold me close, sway me more._'

Pulling Derek almost flush against his body, he laughed and started dancing around the other. '_When the rhythm, rhythm starts to play, dance with me, make me sway. Like the lazy ocean laps the shore, hold me close, sway me more_.' If it had been anyone other than Stiles, Derek would have almost certainly been supremely uncomfortable with the entire interaction and/or ripped the other's throat out.

As Stiles danced away from him, Derek asked, "I've been wondering since I got here, but why are you wearing just boxers, socks and your cloak? Wait, is that… Scott's cloak?"

The song changed, a slow, sad song that didn't seem to belong to the album. "Why, yes, it is. Clothes are for the weak of heart and self-conscious of skin," Stiles said loftily, sliding to his phone and quickly changing it, "If I came to class in hooker heels one day, what would you do?"

"Ask you who you got the heels from, I'd suspect Lydia, then why you were wearing them in the first place, then wait to see if you'd fall over or break an ankle," Derek said without much thought.

Stiles grinned. "You really think I'd fall over? I beg to differ."

"I really hope you're not actually considering doing that."

"No, of course not. Why would you ever think that?" Stiles asked too innocently, disappearing in search of a t-shirt and maybe shorts, but probably not.

Derek shook his head. "Are you going to do this all day?"

"Just until people start to show up again, why? Are you going to stay and dance with me?" he asked almost jokingly. Stiles reappeared, his cloak gone and in its place, a Superman t-shirt.

Shrugging, Derek said, "I've got nothing better to do except for classes, but I'm feeling very non-social today as well."

"Then you've come to the right place. Kick off your shoes, and let's get dancing." Switching to a new song, Stiles threw himself into a new dance, dragging an only partly resistant Derek along.

…..

"I can't feel my legs," Derek growled, spread eagle on the common room floor, his shirt somewhere by Stiles' speakers, and his pants ready to follow, "What the hell, Stiles?"

Laughing breathlessly, Stiles pushed himself up, looking up through one of the windows where afternoon sun shone through the water. "Hey, you said you'd dance with me. No complaining, sour wolf."

"I didn't think you meant for four hours!"

"Well, now you know for next time." Crawling away, Stiles turned down the music and sat against the corridor wall. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

Sitting up, Derek glanced over his shoulder. "Like one of those moving muggle picture things? I guess so. It's not like we actually have anything to do."

"Dude, you live in Beacon Hills, one of the most non-magic towns around, and you've never watched a movie?" Stiles asked, appalled. Was he talking to an alien species or just a very ignorant teenager? He really couldn't tell. Shaking his head, he disappeared into the dormitories. "You have so much catching up to do."

"My family likes to keep to themselves. And I wouldn't say that Beacon Hills is one of the most muggle towns…"

"What do you mean by that?" Stiles reappeared, his arms full of wires, a projector, a small DVD player and a DVD case.

Derek shrugged, watching with curiosity as Stiles set up the projector. Where he was getting the electricity, he wasn't sure. Just like he wasn't entirely sure where Danny in Ravenclaw got his electricity to run his computers and cameras. He was almost positive that it wasn't legal in either the muggle or wizarding world. Actually, he wasn't entirely sure where he hid the entire set up. Oh, the mysteries of the muggle-borns. "There are a lot of magical families there, it seems, among other things."

"Among other things... very descriptive," Stiles said distractedly, pulling out his wand. He flicked it at a white blanket sitting on a couch. It lifted, spreading out, and fastened itself to the wall.

Derek watched the boy with wondering eyes. This was the boy who had been at Hogwarts for less than a year. This was the boy who'd been practicing magic for less than a year. This was the boy who still had magical outbursts almost on a daily! This was the boy who was second in their year, and could hex without a second's thought. "You're amazing," he whispered.

"What was that?" Stiles spun towards him, grinning like the sun he was.

"Nothing," Derek said quickly finding a seat in front of the screen, "What are we watching?"

"I'm thinking '_Moulin Rouge_' just because I can't find my unscratched disc of X-men and I'm still feeling rather singy still."

"And what the hell is '_Moulin Rouge_'?" Derek asked apprehensively, wondering if it had anything to do with the brothel in Paris.

Stiles grinned. "You'll find out."

…..

Frowning, Derek heard a sniffle from the other side of the couch. Slowly turning his head to the other boy, his mouth dropped open just the slightest bit. Stiles was crying. Stiles was fucking crying. "Why the hell are you crying?" he shouted over the singing of the couple and Stiles' thick mumbling along with the song, "We just started the movie!"

"You don't understand!" Stiles shouted back dramatically, rubbing at his eyes. "You won't understand till the end!"

"Then stop sobbing so I can watch the movie!" It was becoming hard not to laugh.

"Make me!" Stiles shouted childishly.

Sighing, Derek grabbed the boy, quickly whipped his face before shoving it into the couch. "There, I made you. Let's watch the movie."

…..

"Stiles, what the actual fuck is this?" Jackson snapped, interrupting said boy just as he was dipping a hand into a bowl of popcorn nestled between his legs. "What is a Gryffindor doing in here? And why aren't you wearing any pants?"

Stiles glanced uninterestedly over his shoulder at his fellow Slytherin. "We're watching a movie, obviously."

"Pants? And…" he glanced at the still very shirtless Derek readily ignoring him, a blanket thrown over the laps of the couch's occupants, "Shirt?"

"Optional." Stiles readjusted, sitting crisscross between Derek and Erica, who had long since discarded her uniform in favor of sweatpants and baggy t-shirt. "You're welcome to join, just shut up." Stiles motioned towards the other groups of Slytherins watching '_Easy A_'. All of the participants let out snickers of laughter, and Stiles fell sideways into Derek laughing. He stayed there, snuggling into his side.

"Seriously, could you two get any gayer?" Jackson snarled, rolling his eyes hard.

Stiles shrugged. "I could be giving him a blowjob or riding him like a rollercoaster at Disneyland, but I'm not," he pointed out.

"You know what, just shut up. Why are all these people actually putting up with your muggle shit?"

"Because it's rad as hell and homework sucks major monkey testicles," Stiles said monotonously, "Would you sit the fuck down or go get Lydia or something?"

Pretending to strangle Stiles from behind for a few short moments, Jackson turned away in a huff to find Lydia. Maybe she could talk some sense into him. Scott squeezed by him into the Slytherin common room as he left.

As he marched towards his best friend, Scott shouted at the top of his lungs, "I HEARD YOU WERE WATCHING MOVIES WIHTOUT ME, STILES!" He flung himself over the back of the couch, landing between Stiles and an Erica who looked on the verge of a heart attack.

"Yep," Stiles said shortly, not taking his eyes off the screen as Scott reached for the bowl in his lap.

"I hope you don't mind that I told the others."

"Who does 'the others' entail?"

"Lydia, Danny, Isaac, Boyd, Professor Laura, Cora, Malia, and the twins."

Stiles pursed his lips. "So, in short, you mean the entire student body."

"Yeah, basically."

"Great, the more the merrier. This room isn't nearly full enough for a movie night."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Scott snaked his hand into the popcorn bowl he now possessed, slapping away Stiles' hand.

Derek blinked at the pair. "Did you just say you told my sisters?" Wide-eyed, mouth stuffed full of popcorn, Scott nodded at him. He groaned loudly. Before he could say another word, they were descending on him.

"You thought you could watch movies and cuddle Stiles without us?" Laura said as she squeezed between Stiles and Scott and Cora landed in Stiles' lap, making him wheeze in pain, "That's not fair."

"Tell me you didn't bring anyone else," Derek growled.

Laura grinned mischievously. "Oh, not many, just, you know, the other three houses, and maybe my colleagues." As the words tumbled from her mouth, students sporting pajamas and hefting blankets spilled into the room, filling the space with chatter and laughter. They mingled amongst each other, filling every available space that the movie could be seen from. Even the teachers banded together and lined up against a wall.

Derek groaned even as Stiles grinned. "Dude, this is awesome. I can tell that this is totally going to become a thing. Every Friday night from now on." He lowered his voice, glancing conspiratorially between his couch of friends. "Next time, I'll be sure to make a run to Hogsmeade from the essentials."

"The essentials?" Derek's skeptical eyebrow made an appearance.

"Yeah, Honeydukes, butterbeer, firewhiskey…" he said, ticking them off on his fingers, "Oh and this new wolfsbane vodka my friend gave me! That stuff totally makes your tongue go numb, sucks for trying to make out with someone, but those with magical creature blood can totally get wasted for once," he explained around his tongue where he'd stuck it out for demonstration.

Derek and Cora rolled their eyes in unison while the rest simple laughed.

…..

Headmaster Deaton was making his way back to his office when the lack of students filling the halls finally dawned on him. It was still two hours before all students had to be in their House common rooms. Normally, students would still be roaming the halls, causing mischief and pissing each other off.

His eyes narrowed. "Where's Stiles?" he wondered idly. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of the boy all day, which was highly unusual.

Half way to the Slytherin common room, he heard the raucous laughter. Frowning deeply, he entered to find his entire school, students and all, crammed into the large room. Students filled every available sitting space from the floors to the couches, claiming even each other's laps. The teachers leaned against the walls, snickering into their collars. At the very front of the pack, Stiles bounced between Scott and Derek, chattering in their ears.

"Ah, now I understand." Going to stand beside Madame McCall as the students called her, the head nurse, he asked, "How's the movie?"

Melissa startled, grasping the front of her robes. "Headmaster, you scared me," she gasped. Once her breathing had evened out, she said, "It's going well. I've never seen the houses get along for this long. Stiles is a wonder."

"We've known that for some time now," Deaton nodded.


	3. Chapter 3: An Argument of Love

**I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I had too much fun writing it.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

Chapter 3: An Argument of Love

"I'm not sure what I should show tonight," Stiles commented, twirling his wand idly between his fingers. He and Lydia leaned against a column watching the First Years scurry around in a panic, readily avoiding Transfiguration with Peter, Derek's creepy ass uncle who always seemed to be sniffing them. Every time they walked into his classroom, he'd give them a look that seemed to accuse, or maybe congratulate, them on taking his nephew's supposed virtue. Even his questions, when asking them, always seemed pointed on figuring out their relationship to Derek. Disconcerting was not even the word for how the whole thing made them feel.

"You should show '_Forest Gump_' or-"

Stiles cut her off. "We are not watching '_The Notebook_', Lydia, my darling. '_Forest Gump_' will do just fine. Thank you for your suggestion. Maybe we'll watch '_How to Train Your Dragon_' also."

Lydia flashed him a sharp smile, a smile that said she'd get her way soon enough. Her eyes slid over the crowd landing on a suspiciously dark crevice behind a statue. Twitching her wand, the faked darkness lifted revealing Kate Argent thoroughly kissing one Mr. Derek I-should-be-heading-to-Potions Hale. Her eyes narrowed.

Kate Argent wasn't significantly older than them, maybe five or six years older, but the gap in maturity added a nasty taste to the illicit relationship. Kate still thought her charm was up because her eyes slid to them, a triumphant, wicked light sparking in her eyes.

The pair could almost taste her ulterior motive. They wondered idly if Professor Gerard Argent knew his daughter was a skank who was into pubescent boys because they were almost positive that her brother, Chris Argent, knew. What with the way he was constantly avoiding conversations with her and steering students clear of her.

Stiles ground his teeth audibly. "Bitch," he snarled. A Fifth Year student yelped as his book burst into confetti. Stiles flinched, muttering a quiet apology before turning his attention back to the problem at hand. "Hey, Lydia, want to see something funny?"

"Always," Lydia said, smiling widely as she tucked her fingers into her crossed arms.

Almost exploding with magical energy, Stiles slid out of Kate's line of sight. Once she'd turned her attention back to the teen in her claws, Stiles whispered, "Expecto patronum." A white ball of light burst from the tip of his wand, landing in the center of the group of Third Year Hufflepuffs in the form of a large she-wolf.

Coming around to resume his position, Stiles smiled broadly as the hall dissolved in panic. His patronus held her head high watching them for a prolonged moment. Raising her muzzle, she released a long, angered howl. She rushed between Derek and Kate, knocking them apart before standing possessively over Derek.

Lydia laughed, watching the commotion. "My turn," she said, holding out her wand, "Expecto patronum."

Her patronus formed on the Seventh Year's back that is had accidentally knocked to the dusty floor. The pointed features of a small fox stared back at them, her tail flicking playfully. Turning, she pounced onto Kate's stomach, flattening her to the ground once more before jumping around Derek and Stiles' wolf, batting at them, trying to get them to join in her fun.

Lydia smiled, then frowned. "Stiles, I thought your patronus was a hummingbird."

"It used to be back at the beginning of last year," Stiles nodded, watching his wolf snarl at the bewildered Kate while simultaneously playing with Lydia's fox, "I'm still surprised that the spell came so easily to me for how difficult everyone says it is."

"Yeah, you and everyone else who ever saw you perform it. I remember seeing you practice by the Whomping Willow a few times. When you finally got it, it was just this tiny hummingbird that kept flitting around your head. You were disgustingly glowing when you walked into Potions that morning."

Stiles beamed. "Yeah, it was awesome, but my patronus changed sometime after Christmas last year. I'm still not sure why though."

Staring at her friend for a long moment, Lydia sighed. "Let's go take a walk." She threaded her arm through his, pulling him towards the grounds. Kate had already shot them a nasty glare and stormed off to her Charms classroom leaving Derek staring at the patronuses, so she figured it was safe to leave.

"What? Right now? Class is about to start I hope you know," Stiles said, not attempting to resist her.

"Did you really want to go to Professor Peter's? Truly? Honestly? It's not like we actually need to be in class for today's lesson. He might try to play chess with you or, I don't know, kidnap you and leave you tied up in a maid's uniform that's two sizes too small on Derek's bed for him to find."

Stiles stared over at her. "I… I can tell you've had a long thought about this. Did you come up with that scenario while you watched Peter resist tearing out my throat during class?"

Lydia rolled her eyes dramatically, complete with the fluttering of her eyelashes. "Come on, Stiles. Even Scott, **oblivious** Scott, can feel the sexual tension between you and Derek. Someone like Peter can probably taste it on the air, and he was only in the same room as you two **once** over summer. Remember Talia? She almost burst from trying to control her need to start planning a wedding!"

Stiles scoffed, waving her off, "You are delusional, my dear."

"Am I? Am I really? Honestly, half the time when I see the two of you together, I just want to cast a gravitation charm or sticking charm to the two of you. Or run up and slam your faces together, screaming, 'Now kiss!'"

"Lydia, are you crazy? You know how I feel about you. I'm pretty sure I'm attracted to those of the female gender, and gay guys aren't attracted to me anyway. I already asked Danny. Plus, did you see how that bitch and Derek were glued together? I'm certain he's just as attracted to the opposite gender as I am."

Again, Lydia rolled her eyes. "No, I'm extremely sane, thank you. You, on the other hand, are not. You're not in love with me, at least not romantically anymore. I don't get that vibe off of you. Anyway, you can be attracted to boys and girls at the same time. It's called being bisexual or having sexual fluidity, which, let's be honest, has you written all over it. As for Danny, just ignore his assessment. He's more into the 'tall, dark and mysterious', not the 'small, pale and possibly related to a pixie.'"

"What about my tastes?" Danny asked, suddenly appearing on Lydia's other side, "Were those your patronuses in the corridor? I got a video. Kate looks pissed."

"As she should, the stupid…" Stiles words disappeared into an angry mutter.

Danny raised an eyebrow at Lydia in question.

She waved it away in her way of silently saying, '_I'll tell you later_.' Patting Stiles' hand a little forcefully, she explained, "We're discussing his possible bisexuality and utter denial of the fact. Oh, and how everyone can smell the hormones between Derek and he."

"She's right on all accounts, you know?" Danny said even as he played the video he'd recorder for them.

"What? But you said I wasn't attractive to gay guys!" Stiles cried indignantly, "And anyway, Derek and I aren't attracted to each other!"

"Oh please, you two practically eye-fuck each other every time you're together. It's disgusting, but kind of a turn-on sometimes when I'm feeling frisky," Danny explained calmly, not looking to Stiles, "'sides, I said **I** wasn't attracted to you, not that others wouldn't be. You have the feminine, pixie qualities that guys like sometimes in a bottom. Aesthetically, you're pleasing to look at on occasion, just not my cup of tea."

Stiles laughed without humor. "We do not eye-fuck each other."

"Yeah, and neither did Isaac, Erica and Jackson that one time they got totally hammered," Lydia said sarcastically. Then seriously, "They looked really good that night. We should get them drunk more often."

"Guys, I'm not bisexual!" Stiles cried, throwing his hands into the air.

"Stiles, can you tell me with complete certainty that you are not gay, even a little gay?" Lydia asked, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

Stiles opened his mouth, but a second later he snapped it shut. Was he certain? He couldn't ignore the dreams that he had almost on a nightly. You could only have so many dreams about doing a friend until you have to admit that they're not caused by sexual frustration. His frown, though, was caused completely by frustration.

…..

"What are you three doing out here? Aren't you supposed to be in class?" Laura asked without actual concern, sitting side-saddle on her broom and floating above their heads. They were close to the cottage she occupied as Grounds Keeper, walking slowly through her garden. She had wolfsbane growing on the outer edge of the garden.

"Of course, but where's the fun in sitting through a class with your uncle?" Lydia asked brightly, smiling widely. Laura grimaced. "Exactly, plus, our conversation is much more interesting than intermediate transfiguration lessons."

"Oh, and what is this conversation you speak of?" Laura asked, raising an eyebrow in undisguised interest.

"Stiles' sexuality," Danny said simply.

"I am **not** bisexual, I keep telling you two this," Stiles grumbled.

"Oh," Laura cooed, propping her chin in her hands, "Bisexual for who? Please tell me my brother. After, you know…" she trailed off, locking eyes with Stiles, "he needs someone good in his life."

Stiles groaned. Lydia and Danny grinned.

"Stiles' patronus is a wolf," Lydia supplied as evidence and Danny held out his phone to show her the video from the corridor.

Laura whistled, grinning. "You've got it bad, my friend," she said, touching down to watch the video more closely. "Did you know my brother's patronus is also a wolf? You need to slit that bitch's throat and decorate the Great Hall in her blood." A growl rumbled deep in her chest.

"That's some animosity you've got there," Danny murmured.

"Okay," Stiles interrupted in utter annoyance before they could continue on that line of discussion, "Just because the shape of our patronuses match means nothing."

"When did it change?" Laura asked suddenly, glancing at him.

"What?"

"When did your patronus change shape?"

"Sometime… after Christmas vacation… third year," Stiles said haltingly, feeling his face light as he remembered how he'd stuck close to Derek and Scott for those two days they were snowed in. The way Laura's eyes were boring into his soul like she knew even secrets he didn't had him wanting to crawl under a rock and never reappear.

She pursed her lips in the way that said she was trying not to grin. "Interesting," she murmured through the purse, "You know, people's patronuses often take another form after they develop strong feelings for another, something that mirrors the other's patronus, or compliments it. Did you ever hear of the patronuses of James Potter, Lily Potter and Severus Snape?"

Stiles looked to his other two companions. Both shook their heads.

"I suppose not. It's not well known, but I learned of it from a distant… family friend, Teddy Lupin. It even happened with his parents. After Nymphadora Tonks fell in love with Remus Lupin, hers changed shape as well."

"Okay, but what about the Potters and Severus Snape?" Lydia asked, interest sparkling in her eyes.

"Well, Lily and James had patronuses that complimented each other. James' was a stag, Lily's a doe. They loved each other very dearly, but Snape, he was a different story. He'd been in love with Lily since they were children, but it was only returned as friendship. It was still deep love. His patronus mirrored Lily's, also a doe."

Stiles face was still flushed, his heart fluttering with how flustered he was. "I'm not in love with Derek Hale! It's just… not true!"

Laura smiled softly. "You don't get to choose who you fall in love with Stiles, just like you don't get to choose your genetic donors. Don't worry. We won't tell."

His eyes facing away from the gooey trio, trying to cull down the burning in his cheeks, he looked out over the grounds. Down the hill, near the forest's edge, blonde hair was splayed across the ground, unmoving.

"Is that…" he whispered, squinting at the hair. His eyes widened, and he was on the move before the others knew what was happening. "Erica!" he shouted, stumbling his way down the hill.

He crashed to his knees beside Erica, his breath coming hard. "Timer! Someone start a timer!" he shouted as he turned Erica onto her side, pillowing her head in his lap. A thin trail of spittle and puke slipped from the corner of her mouth to the leafy ground. "Did someone start a timer?" His eyes were wild as he jerked his head around towards the others, his pupils blown wide nearly eclipsing his irises.

"Started!" Lydia shouted, a set of blue numbers clicking quickly through the seconds as they stumbled towards him.

"What's happening to her?" Laura asked, sniffing the air subtly, "She's sick, but what's happening to her?"

Stiles had to remember that Laura was only two years older than them, still young and as inexperienced as they were. "She's having a seizure," he said, gently running his fingers through her hair to give his hands something to do. He didn't want to accidentally hurt her by restricting her movements.

"What do we do?" Laura asked, her voice becoming increasingly worried with each passing second.

"How long has it been?" Stiles asked.

"Two minutes and forty-three seconds," Danny said, glancing at the timer.

"Laura, if it reaches five minutes, get Melissa," Stiles instructed, but as the words left his mouth, Erica's trembling slowed to a stop. "Oh, thank god," he whispered, wiping the spittle and puke from her mouth with his sleeve. Rearranging her limbs, he settled her in a more comfortable position.

"What… what do we do now?" Laura asked, crouched beside Stiles, scenting the pair.

"Wait until she wakes up," Stiles said simply, soothingly smoothing back Erica's sweaty hair.

…..

Stiles lay beside Erica in the Slytherin common room listening to the tired, sleepy sounds of the student body as Melissa quietly shut off the projector running the credits of the last movie. Erica was pressed against his side, head pillowed on his shoulder, leeching magic and heat from him like some kind of succubus as Melissa had suggested. They would have been in one of their beds, but Stiles hadn't figured out how to get passed the charms to the dorms. Erica's soft breath tickled his neck, but his mind was miles away.

His patronus pranced around the room, galloped up the walls, across the ceiling, stuck her nose deep into his hand or armpit or against his neck. She repeated the same to Derek sleeping soundly on the floor beside Scott, Cora and Laura every few minutes. She yipped happily and let out quiet howls at the moon shining through the water and windows. At the moment though, she was curled up beneath his tented legs, pressed to Erica and shimmering gently. She huffed quietly.

His mind had split in two. Part of his brain was concentrated on the memory that brought her to life as if it was happening that very minute. He heard the music filling the courtyard beneath the dark sky and twinkling stars. He felt the press of bodies around him, of Scott's back against his and Derek's hands on him, Cora's breath on his neck. He heard Lydia's high, delighted laugh as he pushed her into the air, of Derek's low, dark chuckle as he pulled Stiles back against him. He saw fireworks he'd shot into the sky above the dancing student body. He felt his lips pressing to Derek's cheek, laughter bursting from them.

The other part of his mind was still back during the conversation hours ago. He thought of Lydia's and Laura's words, of the way Laura had looked at him like she knew everything. He wondered if there was any stock in his friends' words. Surely there wasn't. There couldn't be.

But how would he know, because if Lydia had been right, if he only loved her as a friend, he didn't really know what love felt like. How, then, was he supposed to know if he was in love? Simple, he wouldn't.

**Oh wow, that was… really fun to write. I don't know, I just love the thought of patronuses and Danny and Lydia ganging up on Stiles and Laura being a big sister to everyone. I would love to hear your guys' thoughts on this so far!**


	4. Chapter 4: What is it about unicorns?

**Disclaimer: I own neither the world nor characters, but I do own the plot.**

Chapter 4: What is it about unicorns?

"Let's go to the beach," Stiles said around the end of his quill as he frowned down at his essay. Something was wrong with it. He had this itching feeling that something was missing, but it was about unicorns. How much could he really write about unicorns?

Scott's head snapped up to him. Cora glanced over at him in interest. Derek ignored them, working steadily down his roll of parchment.

"What? No. Why? How would we even get to the beach?" Scott asked, still in a hazy daze from the essay he'd been making a valiant attempt to finish in one go.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at his best friend, pulling the mangled end of his quill from his mouth. "We only live fifteen miles from the beach."

"Yes, but that's back home."

"That's what I'm talking about."

"…I'm not following."

Stiles jammed his quill back into the ink well between him and Derek, spilling some over the side onto the corner of Derek's paper. He ignored the annoyed glare Derek shot him. "When we go home for the Christmas and summer break, we should camp out on the beach and have a bonfire. S'mores, bitches."

Scott shook his head. "Right, and who'd really want to go camping on the beach with us?"

"Me," Cora said, scratching out an answer so forcefully on her homework that she ripped through the parchment. She quietly cursed. "Also, what are s'mores? They sound good."

"Me," Lydia said as she slid in beside Stiles, "Sweetheart, they are the best thing you will ever have the pleasure to eat. They're roasted marshmallows and chocolate between two graham crackers. Trust me when I say that they are delicious. I would happily get fat off of them any day."

Danny laughed at Lydia, taking a seat beside Scott. "I'd like to go camping on the beach."

"Camping?" Laura interrupted with a large grin, "When? I want to come." Derek groaned loudly. She reached over his defensive arm to pluck his quill from his fingers. The writing tool nearly snapped in half.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he snarled, narrowing his eyes at her. Suddenly, they seemed even more blue than usual.

Tilting her head to a quizzically pissed off angle, Laura glared him down, digging her fingers into his bicep. "Actually, I'm looking for a baby unicorn that wandered off. You haven't seen her, have you? I know she really likes virgin pups with big egos," she growled, somehow making her light words sound threatening. Derek winced, ducking his head. Cora, her eyes going wide, turned her gaze away in discomfort.

Stiles ignored the family spat, raising his eyebrows and grinning triumphantly at Scott. "A lot of people."

Scott sighed. "If we don't get grounded for our grades, sure, let's go camping." Stiles waved away his concerns. "Plus, it'll be cold as balls over Christmas."

Stiles laughed obnoxiously. "Cold? What's that? Anyway, we've got space heater one, two, and three with us." He spread his hand to the Hale siblings two of which smirked at him and the other of which glowered. He turned his eyes away, resisting the urge to snap out his wand that was burning a hole in his pocket, looking to throw a hex.

"Okay, but first, let's pass Defense Against the Dark Arts for this semester," Scott pleaded, looking at his essay. "What else am I supposed write? What else is there to write about unicorns?! Why do we have to write about unicorns in DADA? Why is Professor Gerard such an asshole? They're not harmful to us."

"It's because their blood can be used for multiple things, but killing a unicorn has major consequences," Stiles said absently as he twisted his paper from one side to the other. "I think there's something missing from my conclusion. Do you think Gerard would fail me if I ended my essay with 'I've found that being a unicorn myself, no one is majestic enough to ride me'?" He glanced up, watching as Scott flipped through his textbook, looking for something, **anything**, more that would help him. "Hey, Scott, we've still got like a week to finish this essay. Come on, guys, let's go do something that's not homework." Stiles quickly rolled his parchment and capped his quill and ink, stuffing everything into his bag.

Scott sighed in defeat, slowly cleaning up his mess of papers and books. "Like what?"

"Making amortentia and putting it in chocolates for Coach and Harris, maybe for all of the teachers if we successfully brew enough. And you know what else is happening today?" Stiles stood beside the table, waiting for all of them to stand.

"What?" Derek sighed, reluctantly sliding his scroll into his bag as Laura dragged him to his feet.

"The first Quidditch match of the year between Slytherin and Ravenclaw," Stiles said, grinning, "You two ready?" He looked to Lydia and Danny.

Lydia smiled a smile sharp enough to cut. "We should be asking you that question."

Grinning, Stiles turned and lead the group to a secret part of the dungeons he'd discovered with Scott at the beginning of the year. "Welcome to the nest of the snake. Let's get to work."

…..

"Jesus, is this what this potion is supposed to smell like?" Derek snarled, backing away from his cauldron. The three Hales had their hands pressed to their noses, glaring with watering eyes at the smoke rising from it.

Venturing over, Stiles sniffed at the smoke experimentally. He reeled back, rubbing at his nose. "Not even close. It's supposed to smell like things you're attracted to, and that smells like… burning flesh."

"Smells like wolf piss to me," Cora grumbled, pulling Stiles towards her and shoving her nose against his neck. "You smell a lot better. Kind of like butter scotch and..." Frowning, she pulled back and stared at Derek, but he didn't notice the look as he emptied the cauldron. Laura glanced between the pair before taking Cora by the arm and leading her away.

Stiles frowned. He sighed as he turned to the others. "Looks like Scott and I were the closest, but it's still not what it should be. That prank will just have to wait, I suppose." He watched as Lydia glared at her and Danny's foul smelling concoction before taking it to the sink followed by Scott. "Lydia, Danny, we should go get ready for the match. See you guys after the match."

Gathering their things, the group popped out into an empty classroom. Stiles, Lydia, and Danny took off at a sprint for the team locker rooms. The remainder, the Hales and Scott, started towards the Gryffindor common room to grab their cloaks and scarves before heading to the field.

"Scott?" Derek suddenly said, startling the trio chattering in front of him.

"Yeah?" Scott asked, falling into step beside him, looking at him curiously. "What is it?"

"Is Stiles pissed at me?" he asked, tuning his ears to his sisters as they bent their heads close.

"_What was that look you gave Derek earlier_?" Laura asked.

Cora glanced over her shoulder.

"What? No, why would you think that?" Scott asked, furrowing his brows.

Derek turned his eyes to the ceiling, biting his lip. Cora looked back to Laura, "_It was Stiles' smell_."

"_What do you mean? Like… he smelled so good you wanted to jump him_?" Laura sounded just this side of worried, though still not enough to joke.

"_He smelled like __**pack**__, Laura. Not the kind of pack that the others smell like, but like pack back home_."

"_What?_!" Now Laura sounded startled.

"_And Derek's scent was all over him_!" Cora whispered frantically, "_I think Derek's been marking him_!"

"_Why would he do that_?" Laura paused. "_That was a stupid question_."

Cora shook her head. "_Maybe to ward off Peter, or those others we've smelt. Deucalion and his pack_?"

Laura worried at her bottom lip. "_That's not going to ward any of them off. It might make them want to try harder_."

"Derek?" Scott tentatively touched Derek's shoulder, bringing him back to their discussion.

Shaking his head, Derek looked at Scott. Laura and Cora were stupid, delusional. Why would he mark Stiles? What reason would he have? Stiles was his friend, not his mate. He'd sooner mark Kate than Stiles, though his scent never seemed to stick to her, even after a night spent in her bed.

Frowning, he tried to remember Scott's question. "Well, he doesn't look at me like he used to. Whenever he looks at me, he always looks a bit angry. And then Professor Kate and I got attacked by these two patronuses. Stiles and Lydia are the only ones I know who can cast patronuses. And Stiles has almost hexed me on four occasions now this week."

Scott grimaced. He couldn't tell Derek about Stiles', Lydia's and Danny's discussion, or that the patronuses had been Lydia's and Stiles', or that Scott had been the only reason Stiles hadn't hexed Kate and Derek over the week. Actually, he really couldn't tell Derek anything without violating the unwritten best friend code of ethics. "Stiles is… stressing over some things that he's pissed about right now. Just, uh, give him some time. It should clear up."

"Why do I feel like you're not telling me something?" Actually, he could hear it in the stutter of Scott's heartbeat, but he didn't need to know that. "Stiles hasn't almost hexed any of the others."

"Um…" Scott hummed awkwardly, not looking at his friend, "Would you believe me if I said that I'm not at liberty to tell you the whole truth because that would violate my best friend's trust?"

Derek sighed. It looked like he was going to have to find it out another way. "Yes. I won't ask you to do that. I'll just find out from someone else."

"What are you guys doing? Hurry up!" Cora shouted, springing from behind the painting leading to the Gryffindor common room, throwing their cloaks and scarves at them.

"Let's go! The game is about to start!" Laura shouted, sprinting down the hall after her younger sister, "Run or we won't make it!"

Flinging their cloaks around their shoulders, the two boys took off after the girls.

…..

"GO STILES!" Stiles heard Scott scream from the stadiums, his voice so loud over the rest of the crowd that he had to wonder if Scott was using an amplification charm. He circled back around as Danny retrieved the Quaffle again.

He grinned as he heard the unmistakable pierce of Derek's wolf-whistle split the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Braedon swinging her bat at a Bludger headed his way. Above the game, Lydia chased incessantly after the Snitch, Erica close on her tail. They were nearly evenly matched.

"Stilinski!" Jackson called, the Quaffle tucked under his arm. Two Ravenclaws flanked him, watching his every move.

Stiles tore after them. Before they knew what had happened, Stiles grabbed the Quaffle from Jackson's willing fingers and sped for the goal posts. Just as Danny was lunging for the Quaffle, batting it away from the goal, all of the air was sucked from Stiles' lungs.

Black liquid instantly encroached on his vision. Slipping slowly from his broom, he heard Danny cry his name. His voice was swallowed by the crowd's roar as the commentator screamed into her mike, "Slytherin has caught the Snitch! Slytherin wins!"

Before the haze could take over his mind, he could hear Derek in the stands yelling, "Stiles!"

…..

Stiles drifted in and out of consciousness. He could see the teams leaning over him, Lydia calling his name and pressing down on his sternum rhythmically, Melissa pushing everyone out of the way. Next, he could feel warmth seeping through his team uniform, the unintelligible yells of multiple persons, the strong, frantic beat of a familiar heart beneath his ear. He almost woke fully when his clothes are being pulled from him in an attempt to open his lungs and cool his burning body, but pain shot through his body like fire and he was left gasping before the darkness took him again.

When he finally came to, he was in one of the famously uncomfortable Hospital Wing beds, his breaths coming short and shallow. His lungs felt like they'd been scorched from the inside out, or like he'd just run a marathon at full speed without stopping once. As far as he could tell, he was naked beneath the thin, white sheets, but he can't find the embarrassment to blush, not with his body feeling as if it were stuffed into the world's smallest sauna.

Sleeping with his head pillowed on his arms, Derek breathed softly, easily at his bedside. He was still in the same clothes he'd been wearing during the match, his hair hopelessly rumpled. His large hand was wrapped securely around Stiles' pinky and ring finger, and for some strange reason, Stiles' heart broke in his chest.

He didn't know why, Derek had a family who loved him dearly, friends who'd do anything for him, and yet, seeing how young and innocent and peaceful he looked, Stiles' heart shattered. "Derek," he tried to say, but his voice wasn't even a whisper. Still, Derek stirred.

"Stiles?" he breathed as he blinked sleep from his eyes, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I nearly drowned in a lake of fire," Stiles replied in his barely there voice, "Where's Scott and Melissa?"

Derek yawned, rubbing at his eyes. "Scott would have been here, but everyone was told to go to bed around ten. I snuck back after the castle had gotten quiet."

Stiles nodded. He could believe that. He had one very pressing question that needed to be answered though. "Did everyone see me naked?"

"No," Derek said with a shake of his head. Stiles sighed in relief. "Melissa had Scott and me strip you when your fever spiked. Nothing will bring it down."

"What happened? I don't remember much." He tried to ignore how his body seemed to find more blood to syphon to his cheeks for a light blush at the thought of Derek seeing him naked. He could have cared less that Scott had seen him naked. After being on the receiving end of one of Lydia's strongest sticking charms that had lasted a little over two days, the boys had had to get to know each other a little too well for their tastes. Lydia still laughed about it on occasion.

Derek pushed a hand through his hair before dropping his face into his hands. "Hex, fire based, literally burned off all of the oxygen in your lungs. Madame McCall gave you something to start healing your lungs and cast a spell to help you breath for now, but she said it could take a few days for your lungs to be back to normal. She said the fever is because the hex is still trying to work."

"Yeah, I can feel that." Stiles tried to laugh, but it only sounded like a thin stream of air whispering from his throat.

They were silent for a few moments. Finally, as he encased Stiles' hand between his, Derek murmured, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For whatever I did to piss you off," Derek whispered, "You could have died today. You could have died, and I never would have apologized. Someone… they did this knowing you could have died. They didn't care." He sounded just the slightest bit undone.

Stiles sighed inwardly, '_I guess it's not his fault that Kate is a sneaky bitch. I'd probably fall for her act too if I were in his place_,' he thought to himself. "But I didn't die," Stiles said, "I'm tough like my dad." Derek didn't move. Stiles sighed again. "Hey, that chair can't be too comfortable. You can share the bed with me. There's plenty of room." Without another word, Derek crawled beneath the sheets beside Stiles.

That's how Melissa found them the next morning, Derek curled around Stiles, discreetly leeching away his pain, nose pressed into Stiles' neck, and Stiles happily passed out, dead to the world.

…..

"Scott, seriously, I can walk on my own perfectly fine, you don't have to come into the dormitories with me. I'm not going to pass out on my way there. And I'm really not feeling up to hexing someone who puts a jelly-legs curse on you again," Stiles complained as loudly as possible as they made their way to the Slytherin dormitories. Stiles had been in the Hospital Wing for the past four days, but his throat and lungs were still a little raw, and his body felt completely drained.

"But Mom said I needed to make sure you got to your dorm and to hex anyone who looked suspicious," Scott argued stubbornly.

"Scott, you'd probably end up hexing yourself," Stiles tried, but Scott continued to stare resolutely ahead. He sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

The pair stopped dead in their tracks when they pushed open the door to the dormitories. Curled in Stiles' bed, the wood creaking ominously beneath its weight was a baby unicorn. It turned its head towards them and whinnied. Before it could untangle itself from Stiles' bed, Stiles slammed the door and charmed it locked with the first spell that came to mind.

"There is… a unicorn… in my bed," Stiles said slowly, eyes wide as could be, staring at the door.

Scott was the first to react, clutching his sides and sinking to the floor as laughter spilled from his mouth.

"What the fuck did you do to the door, Stilinski?" Jackson spat, jerking at the handle, "Did you use a fusing charm on it?!"

Without answering, Stiles turned and sprinted from the Slytherin common room. When he finally made it into the Gryffindor dormitories, he flung himself on top of Derek, pinning him to the bed.

"Either this is some weird form of foreplay, which I'm kinda digging, or something happened again. I'm hoping for foreplay," Derek said calmly, looking up at Stiles with a raised eyebrow.

"There's a fucking unicorn in my bed!" Stiles screeched.

"There's a unicorn in your bed every night and its name starts with an S." Derek blinked at his unchanging expression. "Why don't you ask Scott for help?"

"He's laughing himself to death in front of the door to my dorm! I don't know what to do! And don't go making jokes about my virginity, asshole! I'm working on losing it, okay?" Stiles was still shouting. He hadn't reached all caps yet, but he was working himself up to that status. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"With the unicorn or your virginity?" Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. Stiles remained silent, glaring down at him. He sighed and easily pushed Stiles off. "Show me." When they got there, Derek stood in the doorway watching the unicorn happily nuzzle Stiles' head. He was trying not to laugh or even smile. "You're telling me that you are such a virgin that a unicorn came to your **bed** to find you," he forced through his quivering lips.

"Do something!" Stiles shouted even as he pet the creature. Derek was already no help though, sinking down against the doorframe, a hand pressed over his mouth.

In the end, they had to fetch Laura to collect the baby unicorn who reluctantly left Stiles' side. "Come see her soon or she'll bring friends next time," Laura had advised, laughter in her voice.

"Is that a threat?" Stiles had asked.

Laura has grinned a sharp toothed smile. "Possibly, but just know that all she wanted to do was help you heal."

"Thanks for making me feel like a dick."

"All part of the job."

…..

Stiles had finally discovered what was missing from his essay. Minutes before turning it in, he unrolled it across his desk and added one line. '_I have learned from recent experience, that unicorns are ridiculously attracted to virgin bisexuals, and will take over said bisexuals bed if not visited_.'

Gerard had returned his essay with full marks and a lengthy paragraph laughing at Stiles' new predicament.

**Well, that was fun. We'll find out who the pissbaby who did the whole lung burning thing to Stiles is in the next chapter. See you then, and I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far or just about the chapter in general!**


	5. Chapter 5: Prophecy Written in Fire

**I don't have much to say except for the fact that I didn't actually do research on Divination and prophecies and psychics from Harry Potter before I wrote this chapter or after, so I was just going off what I remembered. I hope there aren't too many discrepancies.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

Chapter 5: Prophecy Written in Fire

"Don't you ever touch Stiles again," Derek snarled in Kate's face, hovering over her with bared canines. They were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, their chests heaving, muscles quavering.

Bruises are already appearing along Kate's hips, wrists and thighs. Derek had been uncharacteristically rough, animalistic almost. It was a welcome relief from his ridiculously soft fingers and careful touches, from his submissiveness. She liked angry, stupidly protective Derek a lot more. "I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't done anything to that disgrace of a Slytherin," Kate lied, mirth sparkling in her eyes as she reached up to pull him down to her.

Derek wrenched back, wrapping angry fingers around her wrists. "Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not. I haven't laid a finger on that mudblood. Why would I?" She was only serving to piss him off more.

"Don't call him that," Derek snarled, tightening his fingers, "He is better than all of the Slytherins over all of the years combined. Do **not** call him that."

Kate rolled her eyes, sneering. "Sounds like you have a little crush, Derek. Maybe **he** should be the one you're fucking." She yanked her wrists from him, sitting back against the headboard.

"Maybe I will," Derek growled quietly, glaring at her as she blinked back at him in surprise, "Don't touch him again or I will personally rip out your throat. Don't even look at him. I know that you were the one who hexed him during the match."

"How would you know that?" Kate said, her voice icy and quiet.

"Fire hexes are your specialty." That's all he was going to say. Pulling himself from the bed, he started jerking on his clothing, the seams protesting loudly at his unnecessary roughness.

Kate scrambled to her knees, staring after him as he gathered his things, dumbfounded. No one had ever left her before. She'd always been the one to leave. This could not be happening. "The hex wouldn't have killed him," she lied, too flustered to control her pulse. She'd actually been aiming to kill the nuisance, and it pissed her off that he'd survived. He hampered her efforts to make Derek trust her.

Derek glanced over his shoulder, standing straight after snatching up the strap off his bag. "He almost did die. If Lydia and Melissa hadn't gotten to him with their fast spellwork, he would have." His eyes were dark, the pulps large, closed off to her. He moved to the door.

She cursed silently. She'd lost his trust. Desperately, she tried again, "Derek, he doesn't love you, not like I do. If you leave, he won't give you what I give you."

Derek didn't look back as he pulled the door open. "On his worst day, he is better than you on your best."

…..

Stiles sighed loudly, staring up at the ceiling of the canopy above his bed, watching the blue birds he'd conjured flit across the wood. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to drift to sleep. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, like something was going wrong somewhere in the castle. Crawling to the end of his bed, he fished through his trunk before flopping backwards.

When the dormitory door opened, he thought nothing of it. It could have been a number of the other boys. All of the curtains had been closed when he'd wandered in, but that didn't mean they hadn't been out exploring the castles. Each one of them had been on their fair share of nightly excursions.

He let out a squeak of surprise when his curtain was pulled aside, pressing his book to his chest. Derek clambered into his bed, sliding the curtain closed behind him. Without saying a word, he curled into a ball against Stiles side and let his eyes slip shut.

"Hey, dude, what's wrong?" Stiles asked, not sure where to place his hands. They'd shared sleeping arrangements before, but most of those times had been in the spur of the moment; the couch after movie nights, the air mattress during the snow storm, Scott's bed that one night he'd managed to actually get Derek and Scott astonishingly drunk for no particular reason. This seemed to be on a more premeditated scale though if the just showered warmth rolling off of Derek had anything to say about it.

"I just want to sleep," Derek murmured, pressing his nose into the crook of Stiles' neck and shoulder. "I don't want to talk about it."

"We don't have to," Stiles said, closing his book and setting it on his nightstand before settling into a more comfortable position, one arm slung above his head and the other pushed between his body and Derek's. His eyes following the birds, he murmured, "But if you do, I'll be here to listen."

Derek nodded, inhaling deeply. As he released it, the tension coiled in his muscles faded.

Flicking his wand, the birds exploded into small, blue flowers that showered over them. Stiles sighed, and finally sleep washed over him, pulling him into its silent depths.

…..

"Stilinski, get your ass up!" Jackson shouted from the bathroom, toothpaste crowding his mouth. He marched from the bathroom still in his pajamas, tooth brush sticking out of the side of his mouth. "Get up! If Hale finds out you cut again, he's going to give you detention all next semester, and then Captain is going to burst a vein and hang **us** from the goal posts!" He jerked the curtains back revealing Derek with his limbs wrapped around Stiles. "Oh, for fuck's sake!"

"What is it this time? Did you find a vibrator?" Aiden shouted, bouncing over, excitement in his voice. He wanted blackmail on the boy badly, just to have it, but since Stiles was a master at research, he'd so far been able to counter any blackmail material against him with much stronger blackmail of his own.

"No! Stilinski, can't you find somewhere else to screw your boyfriend?" Jackson shouted, storming back towards the bathroom.

Stiles, still sleepy and warm, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth, called, "I don't see why it matters if we don't wake you up."

"Because you're in the same room as five other sleeping guys! Go find a corner of the castle like every other couple!" Jackson emerged from the bathroom, face and mouth clean. He pointed his toothbrush at the boys. "It's disgusting and vulgar."

"No, that's your mouth," Stiles spat back, snarky. Sitting up slowly, he shook Derek awake. "Anyways, we're not actually doing anything. We are literally just sleeping." Derek, bleary-eyed but alert, shuffled from the room, headed for the Gryffindor dormitories. It was a normal routine now. If Derek wasn't sleeping in Stiles' bed since that first night, then Stiles was in Derek's. On those rare occasions that they slept separately, Stiles just stayed up watching movies or reading.

"You've got to be lying," Aiden piped up with a roll of his eyes, "He sleeps in your bed more than his own, and you're telling me you guys haven't screwed yet?"

Stiles shrugged. "We're friends, not fuck buddies. Do you want us doing it in the bed next to you?"

"No, but seriously, even I would have tapped that by now, and I'm straight as they come," Jackson said, straightening his tie in the mirror he kept above his nightstand.

Matt laughed derisively. "Do you realize how full of shit you are? Are we going to have to bring up you eye-fucking that Hufflepuff, Lahey, again?"

"No," Jackson said quickly, turning threateningly on Matt who backed down with raised hands and laughter on his tongue. He turned back to Stiles. "Danny would be ashamed of you."

Stiles waved the comment away. "Danny is always ashamed of me for something. Anyways, you guys are forgetting that to have sexy times, the other person also has to want to have sexy time with you." He sprang from his bed, quickly pulling on his uniform.

The three boys stared at him with looks that said they were utterly finished with his shit. "**Derek fucking Hale** willingly crawls into your bed on a nightly basis. I think that speaks for itself," Jackson said with a hard roll of his eyes.

"Whatever. You guys are delusional," Stiles said, grabbing his bag and hurrying from the room, "See you in Charms."

…..

"Hey, guys," Stiles greeted breathlessly as he slid into the seat across from Derek at the small round table in the Divination Tower just as the bell rang to signal the end of the passing period. He'd had to sprint up the flights of stairs to get there in time. He was hot and sticky and not at all pleased.

Lydia pursed her red lips at him. "Why were you almost late?" she asked with a quirk to her eyebrow.

"Someone charmed my bag so that it would try to tear off my hand whenever I opened it," Stiles explained, glaring at the offending object, "Peter had to help me with it. I swear to god he sniffed me every two seconds and kept smirking. You'd know all of this if you had actually been in class today, Lydia."

"Don't sass me. I'm not the one a teacher is looking to pin against a table," she shot back. "Derek, why does your uncle have to be so creepy?"

Derek glanced over at them. "That's just Peter. He likes to get in other people's business and mess with stuff. Chances are he doesn't actually **want** to screw you senseless, but more he wants to fuck with your relationship to someone…" He trailed off, his eyes narrowing at the table.

Before any of them could say another word on the subject, Professor Victoria Argent strode into the room in all of her red-headed glory. She dropped a book onto her cloth covered table at the front of the classroom, making the crystal ball in the center jump in its holder. "Today, you'll be attempting divination with a crystal ball, and next semester, after the break, we'll get more into the use of the crystal balls."

"Professor, you're introducing something completely new on the last day of term?" someone at the back of the class asked.

"Yes, Greenberg, do you have a problem with that?" Victoria asked, her eyes cold and far from amused.

"No ma'am," he squeaked.

"I have a question, Professor," someone else piped up. Stiles would have turned around to see who it was, but he was staring intently into the thick smoke swirling through the crystal of his, Derek's and Lydia's ball.

Victoria raised her brow in a small semblance of surprise. "Boyd, yes, what is it? Please tell me it's not another stupid question."

'_Oh. It's Boyd_.' Stiles blinked slowly, lifting his head to crane his neck around.

"I was just wondering, why did you pick Divination to teach when you don't have the second sight yourself?" Boyd asked, sitting beside Isaac and Erica. They looked to him curiously.

Victoria nodded, walking around her small table before starting a slow pace up and down before the students. "When I was a child, Divination was simply an interesting topic. I was never interested in actually telling the future, whether for myself or others. I was interesting in the mechanics of it. How were those men and women who told the future able to derive meaning from cards, tea leaves, sticks, the stars, even simple crystal orbs? Even though I fail at most attempts of telling the future myself, I have found a number of students who excel. It's simply an interest of how it's done, and I still haven't completely found my answer yet. So I teach the mechanics, and hope that someone will one day have that answer. Does that answer your question?" She locked her eyes on Boyd.

"Yes, Professor, thank you."

"Now, let's get started for today. You will be determining how the crystal ball is supposed to be used, and see if you can't… use it yourself. After thirty minutes, you'll all be free to go, but each group must provide a small paragraph on how you believe it works. Flip to page 641, read the short passage on their history, and start brainstorming. Begin." Victoria twirled her wand, a timer appearing beside her counting down from thirty.

Lydia rolled her eyes, flipping her book open as Derek did the same. "I hate crystal balls, I prefer tarot cards," she said, pursing her lips as she scanned quickly over the passage, "I'll get started on the paragraph. Do you two care if I go for the scientific approach?"

"Fine by me," Derek muttered, still reading.

"Stiles?" Lydia asked, looking for his go-head. When he didn't reply, she glanced over at him. "Stiles?"

Stiles was staring into the crystal ball, his eyes clouded and unfocussed.

"Stiles, what are you looking at?" she asked, peering through it to Derek's frown on the other side. He was staring at Stiles, worry written plain on his face. "Hey, Stiles." Lydia reached out a cautious hand.

Stiles eyes flew wide, scrambling away from the table, and suddenly, he was screaming.

"Stiles!" Lydia and Derek shouted, jumping to their feet beside him.

…..

_Stiles was burning. His flesh slowly seared from his bones, his hair turning slowly to ash on his head. It felt as if his blood was boiling in his veins, his lungs cooking from the heat and smoke he was breathing in. His ears were ringing with the screams of those around him, women and children and men._

_He coughed, scrambling towards a window. He slammed his shoulder against the bars, but they remained stationary, not budging an inch. He reached his arm through futilely, scratching at dirt and grass._

"_Dad!" The voice that rose from his throat was not his own. "Dad, where are you?"_

_He stared through bars, up at the moon hanging high in the sky. A woman, her hair brushing her breasts, laughed wildly outside, her features lit by the light of the fire. Her hair was a dirty blonde, her eyes a dark brown. A silver pendant gleamed against her sternum. Two men stood behind her, talking and laughing loudly, but he couldn't make out any of their features._

"_Dad!" Stiles shouted again, yanking his shirt over his mouth and nose, coughing and sobbing into the fabric. He could barely see, but he could feel his Alpha searching frantically for a way out, trying to save her pack. He could feel her dying._

"_I'm here! I'm right here!" Peter shouted, running towards him. He was already too late. The ceiling gave one ominous creak, and was caving in above him._

"_Dad!" Stiles forced out before the pain engulfed everything._

…..

"Stiles!" a voice, familiar and grounding, yelled in his ear. He was being shaken carefully, the entire class staring at them.

Crouched at his side, Lydia nearly screamed, "What was that, Professor?" staring up at Victoria.

Stiles was covered in sweat. His hair was soaked, his clothes damp. His eyes were darting around, unable to focus. All he could see was the brightness, the flickering of flames. Smoke crowded his nose and mouth. The screams of those people, trapped beneath their own home, rang through his head. Pain crawled across his skin. "Dad!" Stiles whispered, his voice harsh from the smoke clouding his lungs, "Dad!" He struggled against the hands holding him.

"Stiles! Stiles, calm down!" That was Derek, his breath warm against Stiles' already burning neck, his voice soothing. He held Stiles close to him, against his chest, holding him still as he struggled.

"They killed my dad! Th-they killed my family!" Stiles said wildly, eyes finding Derek's behind him.

"Stiles, what are you talking about? No one has touched your dad. He's safe in the muggle world," Derek said, staring back at him.

The confusion was starting to settle in. "My… my dad and… they were… who were those people? That man wasn't my dad. I don't know those people."

Derek's eyebrows furrowed together. "Stiles, what did you see?"

"I… I don't know. People were burning. These three people had trapped them and set a fire. And that man, I thought he was my dad, he was burning too. And then I died…" He groaned, dropping his pounding head between his hands, clenching his eyes closed tightly. The fire still danced on his retinas. "I don't know. Why would someone set a family on fire?"

"I don't know," Derek told him.

Lydia was still staring at Victoria, her hand clutching at Stiles' knee. Whether it was to reassure her or him, she didn't really know. "Professor Argent, what was that?" she hissed.

"That, Ms. Martin, was a prophecy. Looks like Mr. Stilinski is a Seer," Victoria explained, her eyes scanning over him, "You should take him back to the dorms. He'll need to rest. The first is always the worst."

**So, I don't remember what they consider psychics in Harry Potter or what exactly constituted Divination and such, so I just called it second sight/being a Seer just because. Hope you didn't hate it. Comments are always welcome!**


	6. Chapter 6: Cool Ocean and Burning Woods

**Sorry for it being late. So, I've been watching a lot of House lately, and I think his personality somehow… leaked into Stiles' personality. I'm sorry and then again, somehow, not so much.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the world nor the characters.**

Chapter 6: Cooling Ocean and Burning Woods

"You did **what**?" Scott cried, eyes going wide as he spun towards Stiles in the passenger seat of Laura's suburban. "That's wicked."

"Except for the fact that I've felt like I'm in a goddamn claustrophobic sauna since then, yeah, I guess it was pretty cool," Stiles groaned, stripping out of his jacket to the t-shirt below. If there weren't so many females in the car, he'd be stripping down to his boxers. Sadly, he wasn't so lucky. At least half of the occupants had a person in their lap with a third of the passengers being of the female persuasion.

He just might take all of his clothes off anyway.

Derek shook his head, hooking his hand over the back of Scott's seat so he wouldn't have to shout over the radio. "It really isn't. He was screaming the entire time like someone was ripping out his spinal cord through his mouth. And the prophecy made no sense. It was useless."

"Zero, absolutely zero sense," Lydia complained sleepily from the back, staring out the window with dozing eyes, "Stupid to go through that for nothing."

"Okay, can we please change the subject!" Stiles called out, leaning his head back against the seat to fan his flushed throat. "Laura, can you open another window?"

"They're all open already, Stiles, sorry," she called back apologetically, sighing forlornly. She shoved her hand out the window, letting the wind whip it this way and that.

Stiles nearly cried. He felt like he was melting. He yelped when a frozen bottle was pressed to his exposed neck. Glancing, he said cautiously as he took the bottle, "Thanks, Danny."

"You're welcome, I just need that bottle back when you're done. It should help though," Danny said with a shrug.

Derek's eyes were focused on how their fingers brushed, how Stiles grinned brightly despite the fever, how their heartbeats sped up just a little bit. Laura wondered if she swerved the car, would Derek's head slam into the window, shoving some sense into his head, without hurting any of the others. He was such an oblivious idiot. Sometimes, it hurt to watch him bumble around Stiles like a clumsy toddler.

"So, did you guys all pass your midterms this semester?" Laura called back, grinning as each and every one of them, save for Lydia and only partly Stiles and Danny, groaned loudly.

"Don't change the subject to that," Cora complained noisily, glaring at her sister in the rearview mirror. Laura slowly grinned wider. "You're a terrible person. How are we even related?"

"Oh, I can think of a few ways," Derek muttered, glaring out the window at the woods, very fixedly ignoring Danny and Stiles who were striking up a conversation about the latest gaming software they'd both downloaded. Or something. He was trying not to pay attention, but Stiles' voice kept punching through his wall of indifference making it almost impossible.

Cora smirked, leaning over the back of his seat from where she was perched on Aiden's lap to get in her brother's face. "Aw, lover boy, missing your girlfriend already?" she cooed derisively.

Stiles fell silent, muttering an apology to Danny as he turned his face towards an open window, his poker face easily slipped over his own like a mask. The others didn't seem to notice except for Laura who glanced back to glare pointedly at her little sister.

"She's not my girlfriend," Derek spat at her, eyes flashing that unnatural shade of blue that they did when he was pissed.

"Oh, then what is she?"

"Cora," Laura growled warningly, but Derek cut her off before she could say anymore.

"She's not my girlfriend. I broke up with her," he snarled.

Cora blinked, sitting back against Aiden's chest in surprise. Laura tightened her fingers on the wheel before reaching to turn the stereo up higher. She was reconsidering swerving again, this time for Cora's thick skull. When Cora leaned forward again, she whispered urgently in Derek's ear, too quiet for the others to hear.

Frowning deeper, but not more aggressively, he shook his head.

After a moment of silence, even from the radio, Stiles leaned forward to Scott. "Hey, buddy, can we trade places? It's hotter than Satan's scrotum back here."

"Lovely description, I didn't want to know you had that much detail about Professor Peter," Scott laughed, pushing Isaac up, "Sure, come on, Isaac." There was a brief scuffle, several loud curses from both Ethan and Danny, Laura nearly swerved off the road and her siblings' heads finally smashed roughly against their windows before everyone settled into their new seats.

Stiles huffed like he was suffering from a fever dream, sweat beading across his forehead. "I can't wait to get in the water," he breathed, letting his hand drop between the seat and door. No one realized when Derek hooked their fingers together.

…..

"Ocean!" Stiles screeched as soon as Laura brought the car to a stop. It took him several tries before he could get out of the car, the first because his seatbelt jerked him back harshly against his seat. After scrambling to unbuckle, he slammed his stomach into the edge of the partly rolled down window. Laughing, Laura rolled it down the rest of the way. He fell out, stripping out of his clothes as he bolted for the water front.

Cora tore after him, grinning delightedly. Rolling their eyes, Lydia and Derek followed after them at a saner pace. Jackson glowered at Lydia's back, but didn't follow. Pushing Isaac out in front of him, Scott raced towards the water. Erica, grinning even as she coughed into a tissue, loped slowly after them, Boyd at her side. Smirking back at the last three, the twins tore past all of them, splashing into the water just behind Stiles who was tramping around in Spiderman boxers.

"Thanks, guys! I guess these two fine gentlemen and myself will just unload the car on our own!" Laura shouted sarcastically. She wasn't sure how many words got through to the others as they started to screech, hitting the water one by one.

"It's fucking freezing! How are you swimming like it's not?!" Scott cried, backpedaling towards the beach, but he fell over Isaac, sending them both crashing face first into knee-deep water. They came up screaming and laughing, teeth chattering.

Aiden, already soaked after Ethan shoved him beneath the water, sprang out in front of Lydia who had so far stayed a good distance away from the water with Derek. Running up, he plucked her screaming off the sand and took off into the water again.

"Aiden, you bag of dicks!" she shouted as she was plunged into the icy sea. Cackling, he swam away as she came up, teeth chattering. "It's cold as Professor Morrell's heart!"

"Oh, come on, it's not that cold," Stiles laughed, grinning from ear to ear. Rubbing his hands up and down her arms vigorously, he attempted to rub warmth back into her.

Sliding her arms around his waist, she grumbled, "Jesus, why are you so warm? It's like you're burning from the inside out."

Stiles shrugged, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "Maybe it's because of the prophecy. I did burn to death in it. Or maybe it still has to do with that fire hex that was supposed to cook my lungs. They could have been fed to Hannibal after that."

"That was at the beginning of the year. I don't think it had any to do with this," she mumbled, shuffling even closer.

Pursing his lips, he muttered, "Oh, I think all three are more closely related than we think. It can't be a coincidence that three heat based incidents are all separate events. Once for an accident. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern."

"Okay, slow down there detective. I think your fever is making you hallucinate," Lydia said, pulling away.

"Never!" Stiles gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. Immediately, he was tackled into the water, leaving Lydia wide-eyed and soaked even more than she'd been before.

A frown etching her mouth, Lydia turned and stalked towards the beach. "I'm going to start a fire," she grumbled, water falling from her in torrents, "I hope you all know that I hate you."

"No, you don't!" Stiles shouted even as Derek dragged him back to the watery depths.

"Surprise attack!" Scott cried, throwing himself at the pair and sending a wave of water over the heads of the others standing close by.

"SCOTT!"

As their cry went up, Lydia snatched up Stiles clothes and went to change into them in the back of the suburban. She didn't feel like pulling out her own clothes. "Idiots, every one of you. You're all going to get sick, and I'm not going to be the one help you," she muttered, slamming the door shut.

…..

"Can I talk to you?" Danny asked, peaking into Stiles' and Scott's tent curiously, "Alone?" He glanced to Scott then quickly back to Stiles.

"Sure! I'm gonna go see if dinner is done yet," Scott said, tumbling from the tent and moving towards the fire blazing close to the water.

Laura was there, grinning at Cora while Isaac flipped chicken. Jackson was murmuring to Lydia a little ways away. Aiden and Ethan were searching for anything poisonous. Erica and Boyd were playing chicken with the waves.

Zipping up the tent flap, Danny dropped down onto Scott's sleeping bag. He watched Stiles flip out his sleeping bag before slipping Stiles' wand from his back pocket. He twirled it around his fingers, watching Stiles. "Why don't you ever touch your wand unless you're casting or threatening to hex someone? Do you realize how terrifying it is to have a sparking wand in your face?"

"You've never been subject to my sparking wand," Stiles pointed out, raising a curious eyebrow, "Your best friend on the other hand… well, he's been on the receiving end of it more weekends than there are in the school year."

Danny frowned. "I'm not sure if that's a lot or not," he said with a quiet laugh.

Stiles shrugged grinning widely as he took his wand back from Danny. It lit up with colored sparks and different colored flames. "That's why I don't unnecessarily touch my wand. It even burns through my clothes when I get flustered and I'm not touching it. It used to happen with my mother and her wand. Maybe it has to do with my ADD or… I don't know, maybe my brain is just weird." He fidgeted, twirling his wand through the air producing a thin stream of small butterflies that didn't seem to be blue or green or brown, but more of a mixture. "It's just that… even though it's been over five years, even though I'm fourteen, I still have magical outbursts and I still get panic attacks sometimes. I don't know, I just kind of want to be normal."

"You wouldn't be you if you were normal," Danny told him with a gentle smile, batting at the butterflies flitting around his head playfully.

"Thanks."

"So, I had a question to ask you." Danny's eyes stayed focused on the butterflies.

They waited until Lydia stopped screaming in what sounded to be Jackson's face before speaking. "Sure, what do you need?"

Biting his lip for a moment, Danny glanced back to Stiles. "Are you dating Derek Hale?"

'_Jesus Christ! Scott, are you alright? Derek, what the __**fuck**__?!_' Laura screamed, but Stiles had begun choking on his own air.

His eyes were wide as could be as he choked out, "What?! No, why would you think that?"

Focused on the shadows running back and forth across the tent wall, Danny muttered, "Because you've been sleeping together since a little while after you got hexed at the beginning of the year."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up. All we're doing is literally sleeping. Why does everyone think we're having sex?"

Danny blinked slowly at him. "I don't know, because you guys seem just about ready to fuck each other every time you're even in the same hallway, like you have a hormone radar for each other. It's ridiculous."

"We're not having sex," Stiles laughed.

"I'm disappointed in you."

He shrugged. "I told Jackson you would be. I should have bet on it."

Rolling his eyes, Danny's next words nearly made Stiles choke again. "So, you're saying you're free to date? Do you want to date me? Maybe we could coax Mr. Sexy Brows into a threesome."

"I'm not sure if you're joking or not, and if you are, that's really cruel, I hope you know that."

"And what if I'm not?" Danny questioned.

Stiles eyebrows jumped high. "Th-then I-I'd have to say, uh, s-s-sure, um, totally. It would be… amazing to date you. But… why me? Why not… Ethan or someone? You said I wasn't your type."

"Types change. Do I have to have a reason?" Danny asked, shrugging.

"No, I guess not," Stiles muttered, grinning. They laughed as the butterflied used him as a landing post.

…..

"S'mores," Stiles and Scott cooed together, backs pressed against each other, legs flung over Danny and Isaac's laps. They were shoved off, but immediately replaced.

"This has to be the best thing I've ever eaten in my life," Cora mumbled around her mouthful, licking at her fingers.

"Told you," Stiles crowed, reaching to roast another marshmallow on the end of his stick. "I could live off of these."

"Don't steal what I said," Lydia reprimanded.

At her side, Laura began giggling like a school girl getting her first kiss from her crush. Her marshmallow had caught on fire. She brought it close to her nose, grinning widely. "You need to try this, Derek, they're awesome!" she said, slamming her shoulder into his. He was staring unblinkingly into the flames, and shook his head slowly. "Kill joy," she pouted. Then she set her marshmallow on fire again and was right back where she started.

Frowning, Stiles sandwiched his marshmallow and stood. "Why are you being such a sourwolf?" Stiles griped, falling down onto the log on Derek's empty side, startling him. "Eat this delicious, hand crafted dessert made just for you out of the goodness of my heart. It'll make you feel better~" he coaxed.

"Or it'll make me hex you," Derek grumbled, but still took the s'more and bit into it. He stopped for a moment, resisting the urge to hum, but he couldn't stop the thought '_Would Stiles taste this sweet_?' from shoving all the others off a metaphorical cliff and watching them scream. He groaned inwardly. '_Great, not I'm thinking of Stiles in my bed-_' He cut that thought's legs off while it was running.

Stiles flashed his teeth. "I'm going to take that to mean it's good! Eat more! Talk, sing, dance! Stop being a sourwolf, or I'll be forced to teach you how to tango, you clumsy, clumsy teen!" Jumping to his feet, he danced towards Scott. They laughed as he fell into his lap.

"Did someone slip tequila into your juice this morning, dumbass?" Jackson snapped, though the affect was minimized by the chocolate at the corner of his mouth, and Lydia shooting her sandaled foot into his shin.

Stiles slid back to the log and into Danny's side. "Did someone slip a broomstick up your ass this morning? Oh, sorry, that would have burned without lube, and we all know you don't like pain. Whose dick did you sit on this morning then? Not Aiden's, I hope. I hear he's as straight as an elevator shaft."

Snorting, Ethan and Erica burst into loud, unending laughter. Lydia, Cora and Laura giggled. Boyd and Isaac repressed grins. Scott and Derek simply stared at each other for several confused minutes before realizing what must have happened, but Scott was somewhat distracted by the look of lust in Derek's eyes as he turned them to Stiles.

"I'm not fucking Aiden," Jackson snarled, avoiding Aiden's eyes.

"The blush on your cheeks makes me think otherwise, Snow White," Stiles quipped, throwing his legs back over Danny's lap, "Is it Matt? Or maybe Braedon has a thing for strap-ons?"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "No one is sticking anything up my ass. I'm not you."

Stiles gasped in mock pain. "Was that a stab at me? Well, I can assure you, the only one being stabbed in this group is you. Oh, and maybe Laura because she likes to dress like a tramp on Saturdays and lure in all the lovely, unsuspecting, strap-on wielding lesbians. She's very successful at it. Could make a business for all those wanting lesbians and bisexual boys and girls at school."

Laura chucked a marshmallow at him, but laughed.

"So… you're saying you partake in Professor Laura's activities," Jackson said slowly.

"No, that would be illicit. I only do things I know I won't get in trouble for. Like this." On a whim, he turned to Danny, catching the other teen's lips. It turned dirty fast, and when they pulled apart, everyone was staring at them and Danny was dumbstruck. "Like that. See the difference?"

Standing and trying not to smirk too hard, Danny said, "You and I need to have a private talk." Leading him away, they disappeared into the moonless night.

"I'm thinking I shouldn't have slipped that firewhiskey into everyone's soda at dinner," Laura mumbled to herself, her pupils dilating and restricting as she stared into the darkness, like the lens of a camera attempting to focus.

"Whelp, that relationship moved quickly. Has Danny always wanted to fuck skinny little nobodies?" Jackson asked the group derisively.

"Who votes that Stiles is burning his V-card tonight?" Aiden asked over Jackson, smirking before going to find a soda.

Cora, Laura and Lydia's eyes flickered to Derek, but returned to their gooey desserts quickly, taking no pleasure in the teen's gloom. No one noticed when he got up and disappeared into the darkness.

…..

_Stiles disentangled himself from Danny's limbs, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn. Scott had found room in Isaac and Boyd's tent early that night, so his side of the tent was empty and cold. Standing, he pulled on a shirt and Danny's sweatpants, moving out into the cold night. He could still feel the slight burn of fever, but it wasn't quite as bad as before._

_Running his hands up and down his arms, he stepped onto the sand with bare feet. They'd set up camp right up against the forest's edge, but far enough on the beach that it was just sand. Sighing, he ran his hands up into his hair and started towards the water. He let it gently lap at his toes, let the cool breeze push against him off the ocean._

"_Why do I feel like I made a huge mistake?" he mumbled to himself, "I'm so stupid and I don't even know why."_

_A howl, long and mournful and terrified, split through the darkness, far into the woods, but not far enough to be harmless. Stiles spun around, eyes wide. "What was-" he started, but all he could see was the burning treetops turning the sky orange._

_The tents were gone, flames spitting out of the tree line. Heat pressed in on his front, suffocating him. More howls arose, but Stiles only saw one wolf. He was pure black and his eyes shone like the clear blue sea even as he was consumed by flames._

…..

When Stiles woke, he woke screaming, his throat tight shut, his chest burning, his limbs tangled in his blankets. Danny was gone. When the tent flap was ripped open, Derek was standing in the sunlight, and climbing through to calm him down.

**I feel like a lot happened in this chapter and then again nothing at all. Certainly nothing that will concern the bigger problems later on, but might be a sooner problem. Hope to see y'all next chapter, and if you have the time, I'd love to hear what y'all think so far! Reviews and comments keep me writing!**


	7. Chapter 7: Toxic Jealousy

**There is a lot of fighting in this one, and even more cursing. I tried not to be offensive with the name calling and such. If I do offend any of you, I'm just gonna say sorry now.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

Chapter 7: Toxic Jealousy

"Hello, Mr. Stilinski, how was your Christmas Vacation?" Deaton asked from behind Stiles where he was walking down a surprisingly empty hallway. A hallway that lead to a passageway to Honeydukes' Cellar. "It's not like you to not be cautious and quiet sneaking out."

Settling slowly down from his near heart attack, Stiles looked around at the Headmaster. Dark smudges marred the skin beneath his eyes and they were rimmed red. He was paler than usual, but a flush colored his sweaty neck. "That was a really stalkerish way to approach someone, Headmaster."

"And that is a suspiciously large bag you're handling. Not planning on sneaking out to procure fixings for tonight's movie night, I hope," Deaton said, walking slowly beside Stiles, "How was your vacation? Seems the classes and homework are already getting to you, I suppose. It's only been a week though, and I know you are able to handle far more."

"I kind of had a stressful vacation," Stiles confessed, running a shaky hand over the back of his neck, "I haven't slept since the first day of vacation. Not really. Night terrors and cold sweats, panic attacks and fevers. It's been… eventful, I guess you could say." He stumbled, pressing a hand into the cool stone wall. He leaned into it, huffing out a heavy breath.

"Maybe you should go see Madame McCall," Deaton suggested, reaching out a helping hand to steady his student.

Stiles shook his head. "No, she's been worrying over me over the entire vacation, and I'm sure she's already got enough to deal with. I'll be fine. I just want everything to go back to normal. I'll see you, Headmaster."

"If you would, could you bring back pumpkin pasties and, if you can swing it and get your hands on some, I'd love some of that new Spiced Blood Wine. I hear there's some stored in the Hog's Head. Just remember to leave the Dunbars with reimbursement and I'll make find a way to keep Professor Peter Hale and Professor Victoria Argent off your back." Deaton turned slowly, heading back the way they'd come. "See you tonight, Stiles. And please be careful. Not everything that roams these halls is kind or sane. When you get back, be sure to see Madame McCall."

Blinking back at him, exhaustion hovered over his eyes. He could barely see straight. "Alright, Headmaster," he mumbled, "See you tonight." He blinked, and suddenly Deaton was gone. "Crazy old man," he muttered without malice, turning to the passageway.

…..

Danny frowned as he slid in next to Stiles at breakfast. Stiles had his head pressed to the table top, his fingers curled into a loose fist. Leaning over him, Danny murmured worriedly, "You don't look too good. I thought you slept last night after we finished."

Stiles rolled his head from side to side. "No, I dozed off, but my fever came back. I had to go sit in the common room to cool down. I haven't slept since Friday."

"Since you drank yourself to sleep, you mean," Danny corrected with a sigh, "And then woke up a few hours later trying to scream." He couldn't understand what had happened. Ever since he and Stiles had started dating, Stiles stopped sleeping. He didn't think it was because Stiles was distressed by their relationship. When he hit the highs of his day, he seemed genuinely happy to be dating Danny. And he responded in gusto when they shared a bed, so it had to be something else.

When Derek dropped heavily into the seat beside Scott, he thought he knew exactly why.

"Whoa, dude, you almost look as bad as Stiles. Are you two having a competition on who can last longer without sleep because if you are, I want no part of it," Scott babbled, looking over Derek's face curiously, "I can't believe you're letting Stiles beat you, though. You guys are hardcore."

Like Stiles, Derek was pale with red rimmed, bloodshot eyes and deep bags beneath them. His lips were chapped, but his hands didn't shake like Stiles' did. That told Danny that Derek had at least twenty-four more hours of sleep than Stiles had gotten since day one of vacation. Whatever was eating them was the same thing as far as he could tell. Stiles had just won the jackpot of being woken from sleep every few hours by his subconscious.

"Yeah, thanks for the observation," Derek growled ridiculously aggressively, squeezing his eyes shut and tightening his fingers in his t-shirt, crumpling the starched fabric.

Painted nails in a dangerous shade of crimson grazed the back of Derek's neck, and he curled farther in on himself. "Hey, sweetie, how was your vacation? I can tell it wasn't… enlightening or **relaxing**," Kate murmured, smirking close to Derek's ear.

Lifting his eyes, Stiles glared at the woman. She didn't seem to notice when he grabbed his wand from his back pocket, setting Cora's Transfiguration homework alight. Pointing his wand, he whispered, "_Expecto patronum_."

The patronus slammed into Kate's chest, sending her flailing backward, distracting Cora from her burnt homework and the growl rumbling deep in her chest. The wolf barked viciously, snarling at Kate as she stood, drawing the attention of the Great Hall, especially the teachers. Glaring angrily at Stiles, she turned on a heel, marching towards the front of the Great Hall.

The wolf crawled beneath the table, resting her chin on Derek's knee and thumping her tail against Stiles' calf.

His hand falling back to the table, Stiles gasped. "Damn manipulative, soul sucking, dementor, cut throat bitch," he snarled, not resisting when Danny pried his wand from his fingers, "Derek, you need to stay away from her or she's going to harvest your sperm, use it for a ritual, and then gut you, skin you, and wear you as a jacket."

"So do you," Derek whispered, exhaustion pouring from his every pore.

"I need to do what?" Stiles gasped. He was squinting, leaning heavily into Danny, gasping. His patronus was slowly fading, whimpering quietly as she did. He could barely focus. The light was getting ridiculously bright.

"Stay away from Kate." Derek closed his eyes again, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples. "I'm going to pass out."

"Why would I ever go near her?"

"It might be involuntary, and if it is, turn and run the other way as quickly as possible."

Stiles narrowed his eyes angrily. "Oh, thanks, I can take care of myself perfectly fine, no thanks to you, **friend.**"

"Stiles, please, just listen. I know you're angry with me, but this is important," Derek groaned, cracking his eyes open just enough to see him.

"Well, I don't need your help to stay safe. I think you're the one who needs help, thank you."

"She hexed you," Derek hissed, leaning over the table towards Stiles, "You need to be careful."

All conversation around the pair died, creating a pocket of silence in the noisy Great Hall. "What do you mean?" Stiles whispered, eyes wide with shock and growing anger, "You knew who hexed me? Why didn't you tell me? How did you know?"

Derek flinched, closing his fingers over his eyes. "Fire based hexes are her specialty. She didn't deny it when I confronted her. She might try it again."

"How long have you known?" Stiles snarled lowly.

"A little while after Madame McCall released you from the Hospital Wing last semester."

Stiles leaned back, his jaw slack and his eyes incredulous. Suddenly, he leaned into Derek's face. "You- you- that night you- You'd just come from her, hadn't you? Is that what that was? To protect me?"

"No, I-" Derek tried, but Stiles jumped to his feet.

The world swam around him. "Why didn't you tell me?" Stiles screeched, Derek stumbling to his feet. They didn't get another word out. In a moment, they were both collapsing to the floor, white, sleepy light taking over their vision.

…..

Blinking into consciousness, Stiles could just barely hear Melissa talking quietly to what sounded to be Scott, Lydia, and Danny. She was whispering quietly, conscious of how loud she was and of the two resting teenagers in her clinic.

"They're going to be fine. They were just severely exhausted. You three should get to bed, that's where I'm headed. You'll be able to see them tomorrow."

"But-" Scott started.

Melissa wasn't having any of it though. "No 'buts'," she reprimanded, her voice crawling in volume before falling again, "Go to bed. You being here isn't going to help them. It's just going to exhaust you which won't help anyone. Go to bed."

Scott relented, murmuring, "Alright, but can we push their beds closer? They always seem to sleep better when they're next to each other. And at least they'll have someone to talk to if they wake up."

The four were silent for a long moment. "Alright," Melissa said. It was only a few seconds before Stiles' cot was being pushed to the left. It clanged quietly against another, coming to a stop. "Alright, off to bed with all of you."

"See you tomorrow, dude. Get better," Scott said, patting him on the shoulder.

A slimmer hand pressed to his shoulder, breath fanning across his neck. "I know you're not asleep. Whatever is wrong, fix it now. I don't want to have to charm you two to sleep again. Next time it'll be into a coma." Leaning back, she squeezed his arm, and turned.

Danny leaned in. "Fix this, whatever it is. I don't like seeing you hurt." He stole a chaste kiss from him, pulling back. "Get better. I'll see you tomorrow." In less than a minute, Stiles and Derek were left utterly alone.

Despite the rage and betrayal still simmering behind his breast bone, and how his heart seemed to be aching, he still reached for Derek's hand, twining their fingers together. Almost immediately, he began to feel warm and sleepy. Derek's pulse picked up beneath his fingertips. "Why?" Stiles whispered.

"Why… what?" Derek murmured, not meeting his eyes as he turned to look at him.

"Why would you hide that from me? Why wouldn't you tell me?" Stiles asked, hurt evident in his strained voice.

Derek closed his eyes, pain creasing his face. "I didn't want you to get hurt. I thought that if you didn't know, you wouldn't do anything drastic, that you'd be safe, that I could protect you."

"If I didn't know, I wouldn't be able to take precautions. Why did she hex me?"

"I don't know, but I'm not seeing her anymore. I'm going to protect you."

A bitter taste filled his mouth. He wanted to release Derek's hand, but his fingers refused to unlock. "How are you protecting me?" he asked just as bitterly, "Why did you stop sleeping in my bed?"

"I-" Derek tried, but his mouth seemed to have short-circuited.

"I've been miserable. I hadn't slept since the first day of vacation and I only managed to catch a few hours on Friday. You look like you've been just as miserable, I **know** you have been. Cora didn't stop talking to me, but you did. I don't understand. What did I do? What did I say? Why did you stop talking to me? Looking at me? Sleeping with me?" His voice dropped along with his eyes. "Why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you! Why would you think that?" Derek asked quickly, frantically.

"I wonder why," Stiles sighed sarcastically, too tired to put any weight behind his words, "Then why?"

Derek bit at his lip hard, drawing blood. "It would be inappropriate," he explained lamely.

"Inappropriate?" Stiles asked incredulously.

His face heated with embarrassment. "You're dating Danny."

Stiles couldn't help but laugh aloud. "Is that what this is about?" Immediately, Derek shrank into himself, feeling ten kinds of mortification heating his body. Stiles reached out with gentle hands, soothing him. "Danny doesn't care. He told me in the first couple weeks that we started dating that as long as you and me don't do anything, we can continue to share a bed. He told me it doesn't bother him."

"Oh…" Derek whispered in the smallest voice Stiles had ever heard.

"You should have just come talk to me."

"I know."

They were silent for a moment, listening to the owls hooting to one another in the night sky. "Does this mean we can start sharing my bed again?" Stiles asked, a grin already forming in his voice.

Derek breathed out a sigh, "Yeah, we can."

…..

Blinking blearily into consciousness, Stiles watched Derek stumble from the Slytherin dormitories to get ready for the school day. After sleeping for forty-eight straight hours in the Hospital Wing, everything had returned to normal save for Stiles dating Danny. The only thing was that Stiles' dorm mates hadn't known that, not really.

"What the actual fuck?" Jackson growled, glaring flaming daggers in Stiles direction as he made to get dressed for the school day.

"What are you pissed at so early in the morning?" Aiden yawned, pulling back his bed drapes and crawling from his bed, "Did your wet dream not end like it was supposed to?"

Jackson stood, still glaring at a half dressed Stiles. "Stilinski, you are dating my best friend. What the fuck do you think you're doing? If you're going to cheat on him, do it discreetly or break up with him. Otherwise, I'm going to break your face," he threatened.

"I'm not cheating on Danny," Stiles said plainly, attempting to remember through his sleepy haze how to tie a tie.

"Someone actually decided to date you?" Matt asked, emerging from the bathroom fully awake and looking alive.

"Danny's too good for you," Aiden yawned, struggling to pull on pants. He fell over, pulling them up the rest of the way from the floor.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious, I already knew that," Stiles shot back sarcastically.

"Back to topic," Jackson snarled, "I don't know how you define cheating, but sleeping with someone other than who you're dating is definitely considering cheating."

"One, we're not having sex or dating, so no, not cheating. Two, Danny knows, he doesn't mind," Stiles said, snatching up his messenger bag.

"Danny doesn't care? You're fucking delusional," Jackson snapped.

"Ask him yourself," Stiles said, headed for the door. Before leaving, he threw over his shoulder, "I'm still not cheating on Danny."

…..

"What are you playing at?" Jackson asked Danny as he slid in beside his best friend before Stiles had gotten to the Great Hall.

Before Danny could answer with a question of his own, Derek came to stand behind him. "Danny, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Shrugging to Jackson with a smirk and standing, he followed Derek from the Great Hall until they found a relatively private corner to speak. "What do you need?" he asked, leaning against the wall to watch Derek pace back and forth in front of him.

"What are you playing at?" Derek growled, stopping and turning to Danny.

He threw his hands into the air. "Wow, that's the second time someone's asked me that question just today. Is it question Danny day? What the hell are you talking about? What did I do to make even my best friends ask me that?"

"You started dating Stiles without any explanation," Derek said simply.

Danny gaped at him. "You've got to be kidding me? Is that what this is about? Do I have to have a fucking reason to date another consenting human being?"

"When you're not any sort of attracted to said questionable human being? Yes," Derek said.

"What do you know about who I'm attracted to? I started dating Stiles because I'm attracted to him," Danny said earnestly.

Derek frowned, looking up and down Danny. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not," Danny insisted.

"Yes, you are." He stared Danny down, waiting for him to fold. After a long silent moment, Danny's indignation fell away leaving an indifferent shrug of his shoulders.

"You're right. I didn't start dating him because I'm attracted to him, but I am at least a little. I wouldn't have done him otherwise. I'm honestly surprised at this point that he didn't lose his virginity sooner."

"Then why are you dating him?" Derek snarled, eyes flashing blue as he glared daggers at the boy.

"Something to do to keep me entertained," Danny said nonchalantly, but guilt soured his normally pleasant scent.

Derek narrowed his eyes. "I swear on my magic, if you hurt him-"

"Oh, shut up. I don't need the father-brother-best-friend speech, alright? I already got that from Sheriff Stilinski while he was cleaning his shotgun, thank you very much. If you're so worried about it, do something about it," Danny said tauntingly, glaring just as harshly back. "Go for what you want, don't wait for it to come to you. Protect who is important to you, don't make threats and then let him get hurt." With that, Danny stalked past an utterly confused Derek. "Speaking of protecting and Stiles, do you know where he is? He usually comes in before Jackson, but I haven't seen him."

"What?" Derek asked, then shouted, "Shit!" He missed the satisfied nod Danny gave before he goes to find Jackson.

Danny frowned though. "I hope he's okay," he muttered, pushing into the Great Hall.

…..

Stiles **had been** minding his own business, headed to meet Danny for breakfast and possibly a morning make-out session if Scott or Jackson didn't try to stop them. He couldn't say that he had feelings beside friendship for Danny, but he also couldn't say that the sex and kissing and hand holding and **cuddling** weren't absolutely fantastic. Even if he had a strange feeling that he wanted to be doing all those things with a specific someone, he wasn't exactly sure who that someone was. As he'd been thinking, he **had been** minding his own business when he was dragged by an invisible hand and slammed into a dark corner.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Stiles groaned angrily, wrapping his fingers around his wand and firing blindly. The air around him was crackling with magic and liquid electricity.

A woman yelped unattractively, then snarled. "Stop acting like a fucking idiot, boy."

Stiles eyes popped open and suddenly he was staring at Kate Argent working to fix whatever he'd done to screw up her now lion's mane hair and soaking, turning see-through robes. "Then don't slam me against walls, soul sucking harpy," he snapped back.

"Shut up," Kate snarled, pointing her wand at him, aligning the tips of their wands. "You've ruined everything, you nasty little mudblood." She looked as if she were going through withdrawals. Her eyes were bloodshot, mouth cracked and bloodied, eyes dark. Her skin was pale and sweaty, her hair brittle.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm not a mudblood, you nasty old hag, I'm a half-blood. You can go choke on a dick. I haven't done **anything** to you besides release my patronus on you, and she was harmless. You deserved that every time I did it."

"You are a mudblood in my eyes. And you continue to ruin and muddy everything with your goddamn hands."

"Ruin what? I haven't **done** anything!" Stiles shouted, small flashes of lightning crackling around them.

"Everything! Everything!" Kate screeched, wild rage in her eyes, "I needed him to trust me and he did! He did trust me, then you fucking stepped in and ruined it all! He doesn't want me! He doesn't trust me! You've ruined everything!"

"What are you talking about? Who are you talking about? I haven't made anyone distrust! If anything, you did that on your own."

"You didn't **have** to do anything," Kate breathed through her teeth nearly breathing fire. Her wand creaked ominously with the strain she was putting on it. "That fucking idiot fell in love with you. Now he doesn't trust me!"

"I don't know who you're talking about," Stiles lied, the lightning increasing. Honestly, he did have an idea. There was only realistically one person Kate would get in his face about, the only person they had in common. "But if they are in love with me, then they probably don't trust you because you **hexed** me!"

"Shut up! Shut up!" Kate screamed, lifting her wand again. "I'm going to kill you, you filthy mudblood! Then he'll come running back."

"Get over yourself!" Stiles shouted over top of her, "Killing me won't bring him back to you! **You** drove him away!"

"I'm going to kill you!" she repeated.

"Just try!"

A curse, one that was almost certainly forbidden, was already spilling from her mouth when the pressure around them snapped, sending them both through the walls behind them into crowded hallways. Stiles groaned loudly, pushing himself up enough to see Derek pushing through a crowd of students, relief and concern twisting his face.

"I got her before she got me," Stiles whispered with a grin, dropping his head back down.

**That was… an enormous amount of typing. Sadly, it will probably happen again. Hope you liked this chapter because I really enjoyed writing everyone getting in each other's faces. There was a lot of fighting in this chappy for some unknown reason, and I'm really sorry if I offended anyone with the name calling and so on!**


	8. Chapter 8: Unsettling Revelations

**Well, this chapter was crap. Sorry it's short and late, but I ran out of ideas for Fourth Year. I dragged it out a little too long. Each part was written on a different day, so they might each sound a little different. My favorite part for this chapter though is the last part. Hope it's not too hard to get through.**

Chapter 8: Unsettling Revelations

Deaton stood at his podium, overlooking the whole of the Great Hall. He looked more serious than any of them had ever seen him, mouth pinched, eyes haunted and disappointed. They skipped over each student, pausing on Stiles and his friends as he came to them. Grasping the sides of his podium, he inhaled deeply and sighed heavily.

"We are nearing the end of yet another year, and though much has remained the same for some of you, much had changed for others of you." His eyes fell to Stiles before darting away. "But one thing can be said, it has been a very eventful year. Before we get to eating , I have a few things that you all need to know about." He breathed deeply again, glancing behind him at the two empty seats at Chris Argent's side.

"Now that the Fifth Years have finished their O.W.L.s, the decision has been made to release Professor Katherine Argent. Until we find someone new to take her place, your Charms period will now become a free period for the remainder of the year."

Stiles, wide-eyed, snapped his head to Scott and Derek as the Great Hall filled with suspicious mutters and exuberant shouts. At his own table, the other boys exchanged quick sentences, eyes darting between one another.

"Holy shit, they **fired** her?" Matt whispered, glancing wide-eyed between his dorm mates and the empty seats.

Jackson stared at him incredulously. "Of course they did, dumbass. She **attacked** a student, even if she did end up in the Hospital Wing right alongside him. They'd never let that fly, especially since Deaton's mothering instinct is as large as Kate's ego."

"I'm not sure that metaphor actually makes any sort of sense," Aiden muttered.

"A free period will also be replacing your Defense Against the Dark Arts period as Professor Gerard Argent had decided to resign in wake of Professor Katherine Argent's dismissal. For the time being, those posts will remain empty until we find new professors before the beginning of next year." Silence, thick and uncomfortable, filled the Great Hall, all eyes trained on their headmaster. "As a reminder, everything that walks in the day is not good, just as everything that travels in the night is not always bad. Be wary. I wish you all a prosperous end to your school year." With the last of his words, Deaton clapped and turned to take his seat beside Chris.

…..

"Bed," Stiles groaned quietly, stumbling towards the Slytherin dormitories somewhere around three in the morning the last Friday night of the term, the other boys in tow. He shoved through the door, falling face-first into his bed. Two bodies fell on either side of him, but he thought nothing of it. It wasn't like it hadn't happened before.

The twins climbed into Aiden's bed, falling into sleep without even removing their sweaters. Matt stole his bed for himself. Isaac and Boyd quickly claimed a bed, lying back to back. Jackson barely managed to pull off his socks and shirt before he was tumbling onto his own mattress, nearly missing it for the floor.

Danny stood over Stiles' bed, glaring at the two extra bodies crowding it. "No, really, do either of you understand the term '_boyfriend_'? Doesn't that automatically give me bed rights?" he asked indignantly.

Scott peaked at him over his shoulder, but snuggled closer to his best friend, sticking out his tongue playfully. Derek couldn't be bothered to even twitch a muscle.

With a roll of his eyes, Danny turned to Jackson's bed. "It's fine, whatever, but I get bed privileges for at least a week without any interruptions from you two after this, I hope you know," he quipped irately as he pushed his best friend to the side and slid beneath the covers.

"Only if you're gentle with me," Stiles murmured back sleepily, mouth thick with alcohol and blankets, "I'm a fragile flower."

"You're about as fragile as Peter's confidence," Danny told him.

"Shut up and go to sleep," Jackson snarled, slapping a pillow over Danny's face. After a short scuffle that ended with Danny as the victor, they settled down.

The room filled with the easy, steady breathing of deep sleepers, ones that would probably be considered dead if their chests didn't move so much. They were all just beginning to slip into their respective dreams when a loud crash echoed through the room, followed by a low, deep groan of pain, startling them back into the waking world.

"What the absolute fuck was that?" Jackson groaned into the still darkness.

Stiles leaned over the side of his bed, looking down towards the floor. He could just barely make out Derek sprawled across the stones. "Derek, what happened?" he asked even though the simple answer was just that he'd rolled off the edge.

"I thought my bed was longer," Derek groaned pathetically, his voice higher, a whiney edge to it.

Stiles had to press a hand to his mouth to keep his laughter in. Giggles and laughter were stifled against pillows and shoulders all around the room. "You alright?" he managed, the grin obvious in his voice.

"I think I broke something," Derek moaned.

The laughter broke forth, drunk and a little hysterical in the early morning hours, filling the room to the brim. They could hear the girls outside the dormitory, Erica, Lydia and Cora, griping about how they were all gay as they passed, heading towards the girls dormitories. The boys only laughed harder.

"Hey, Derek, why did you fall off the bed again?" Ethan asked, pressing his wrist against his mouth.

Derek growled in irritation. "I thought my bed was longer."

The laughter rolled through the room again. "But it's not your bed, Derek," Scott laughed, trying to make his words at least halfway understandable.

"What? Whose bed is it then?" Derek slurred, struggling to push himself up on his wolfsbane vodka heavy limbs, pressing his hot cheek to the cool stones beneath when he'd finally given up on the attempt.

"Stiles'," Scott replied. The pair was still watching the astonishingly drunk boy with half-hazy eyes of their own.

"What? Why am I in Stiles' bed?"

"Because you're always in his bed," Jackson shot over to him, his own words running together in a sloppy slur.

Derek was silent for a moment, putting two and two together. "Oh yeah, right." Latching onto the edge of the bed, he hauled himself back into the nest of blankets and sheets and limbs. Rearranging themselves, Scott lay on his stomach, occupying most of the space. Stiles faced him, lying on his side, and Derek pressed in against his back, nuzzling the back of his neck. Warm, moist breath fanned across Stiles' neck, sending a shiver up his spine.

"The Gay Brigade has finally settled down," Jackson murmured, pressing into Danny's side like he'd never do if he were sober.

"It seems like that makes it your turn to shut up," Boyd grumbled without malice or irritation.

Jackson hissed low in his throat, the vibration running along Danny's shoulder, but no words followed.

As the room drifted back to sleep, no one, save for Stiles, heard the three life-changing words whispered on Derek's last conscious breath, "_I love you_."

…..

"Um, Professor Peter," Stiles called cautiously as he pushed open the classroom door, half hoping that Peter wouldn't be there while simultaneously hoping he would be because he couldn't exactly fix his problem on his own. He was the last professor he wanted to go near, especially since he could smell distress and weakness a mile away, but he was also the only teacher who could remotely correct whatever that Sixth Year had done.

Of course, Peter was there and in the most jovial of moods. Stiles could only repress a hopeless groan.

"Ah, Stiles! What a nice surprise, but I have to wonder why you're here and not getting ready for the travel home," Peter said, closing his last trunk with a practiced flick of his wand. He moved towards Stiles, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Is it about my nephew? I knew you'd come around eventually. I recommend you initiate it, otherwise it'll never happen."

Red staining his cheeks, Stiles shook his head. "This isn't about Derek. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I'm in a relationship with a Ravenclaw. It's another Transfiguration and Charm issue."

The sly smile continued to play across Peter's lips even as he said, "Pity, but you should let Derek take care of that Sixth Year puta for you."

Stiles rubbed at his forehead, trying to purge the sound of Peter saying '_puta_' in casual conversation from his mind. "I can deal with the Sixth Year on my own. What I can't deal with is my zipper trying to inject me with scorpion poison every time I try to unzip it or my skin burning anyone who comes in contact with me. Do you know how long I've gone without kissing my boyfriend or hugging Scott or pinching Derek? Hours, Professor, hours."

"Are you sure you're not stressing because you haven't gotten head from this '_boyfriend_' of yours in those hours?" Peter asked, unimpressed as he twirled his wand carelessly through the air.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at Peter. "I didn't think you thought to little of me, Professor, but… I'm not saying that doesn't have something to do with it either."

Rolling his eyes, Peter gestured to Stiles' clothing. "Off with the cloak then, I need to be able to see what I'm doing. For the burning, I'd suggest seeing Professor Harris or perhaps Madame McCall. You might need to get tested for an STD."

"Har har, you're absolutely hilarious, Professor. I'm rolling on the floor with laughter," Stiles snapped sarcastically, stripping his cloak from his shoulders, tossing it over a desk, "I don't have an STI."  
"How would you know? You've only been sexually active for less than a year, and I can guarantee that your '_boyfriend_' has been sexually active for at least a year longer," Peter replied easily, staring down at the scorpion tail growing out of Stiles' fly, "Well, well, that is a problem, but sloppy work on that Sixth Year's part."

"Yeah, so bad that I don't know how he managed it," Stiles grumbled, "And how would you know how long I've been doing the do? That's not information I hand out on a whim."

Peter rolled his eyes sharply before returning to the task at hand. "Oh please, you **reeked** of virginity up until after Christmas break. Anyone with eyes could tell someone had fucked you, and in a good way too. It's too bad it wasn't my nephew." He stepped back, muttering a few spells under his breath as he waved his wand through the air. After several more attempts, the scorpion tail finally curled in on itself, returning to its normal boring zipper self. "There, all fixed. Roll up your sleeve."

"No, seriously, what is with you and getting Derek and me naked in bed together?" Stiles spat, his face coloring again as his mind returned to the night before and the words Derek had whispered as he'd slipped into sleep.

Peter ran a finger along Stiles' forearm, jerking his hand back as his flesh began to sizzle. "That's a nasty charm there. I can tell you that it wasn't cast by the zipper perpetrator. It corresponds with Kate's M.O., but the magic is different. You've made yourself quite a few enemies, Stiles." He stepped back, staring at Stiles' pale freckle marked skin in fascination. Stiles wanted to turn and run. "I'm simply a concerned uncle looking out for my nephew's best interests."

"Being a little less concerned would be superb," Stiles muttered, resisting the urge to cross his arms.

Peter's eyebrows rose at that. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Stiles, I would love to see my nephew unwind and dislodge that pole he's got shoved up his rectum, but you are a fascinating creature all on your own. I wouldn't mind bending you over a desk myself." He said the words so casually, as if he screwed students every day.

For all Stiles knew, he did. He suddenly wasn't as comfortable leaning against the desk as he had been before. '_I should have brought Lydia or Scott with me_,' he thought miserably.

"Dad, leave him alone," a gruff, unfailingly calm female voice said from the doorway, "You can't drag him into your bed of fire. It's illegal, even in the Wizarding World, and by the look on his face, it'd be rape."

"Ah, Malia, darling, have you finished packing?" Peter asked, smiling his smile that boasted of his power over others. At a curt nod, he continued. "This is Mr. Stilinski. He's second on your year behind Lydia Martin. Have you had the pleasure of meeting?"

"Not officially. Madame McCall and Sheriff Stilinski have given me a ride home on a number of occasions, but we've only really talked in passing when he wasn't being hung off of by his other friends." She looked over him and held out her hand, deeming him worthy. "Officially, I'm Malia Hale or Tate, whichever you prefer. I've seen your Quidditch matches. You play well. I'd like to play with you one of these days."

The dirty blonde watched him expectantly, brown eyes focused on him, tanned hand outstretched.

Stiles stumbled over his words, hands flailing uselessly around himself. "Oh, um, it's nice to, um, actually talk to you. I'd shake your hand, but- It's kind of, uh-" He shot a glare towards Peter.

Peter rolled his eyes again. "Mr. Stilinski had made a number of enemies. He was just having me help remove a charm that burns anyone who comes into skin to skin contact with him." With a mutter and flick, Peter waved grandiosely at them. "Hurt my daughter, Stiles, and Kate Argent will be the least of your worries," Peter told him cheerfully.

Malia shook Stiles' hand with a flutter of eyelashes and pointed glare at her father. "I can take care of myself, Dad. Butt out and stop scaring people away," she snarled. Leading Stiles out, they started towards the Slytherin dormitories.

"I didn't realize Peter had any children," Stiles said, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Several, actually. He has another son that I've met, but he's too young for Hogwarts still. I haven't met any of the others yet."

"I didn't, uh, realize **you** were his daughter."

"We didn't either till a few years ago. Thank you, Aunt Talia." She should have sounded bitter, but mostly, she just sounded annoyed. "It's not information we just give out." She waited outside the common room calmly as Stiles dodged the questions of his dorm mates and dragged his trunk out. "Sorry about my Dad," she said as they turned to go to Gryffindor Tower, "He's a psychopath."

"Oh, I know. He wants to pin me to a bed. **I know**." Stiles laughed a little, calling the password to the Fat Lady from down the hall. They stepped into the common room, and as they did, Stiles said, "Oh, sorry for not actually introducing myself. I'm Stiles Stilinski. No, that's not actually my first name, but my real name is almost as hellish as your father. Nice to meet you."

**Well… that was that. I really have a love for writing Peter being creepy and faking concern. There is a reason that he acts like that towards Stiles, and it's not a shipping reason. We'll find out probably in Sixth Year, so we get another year of him being creepy. I'd like to hear your theories on why Peter acts the way he does, if y'all don't mind. See you next time.**


	9. Chapter 9: Braving the Hales

**Wow, alright, so this chapter was actually rather fun to write. It was supposed to be nearly 1,000 words short, but I got an idea at the end that I thought you guys might be interested in, and I surely was.**

**In the next two or three chapters (two weeks from now), I'll have to put this story on a temporary 2-3 month hiatus seeing as I won't have access to a computer, or any electronics for that matter. During those months, I might manage to finish the story, so it should go fast after that, but I can't promise anything. I don't know how much free time I'll be getting.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its lovely, lovely characters**

Chapter 9: Braving the Hales

"Home sweet home," Stiles sighed happily, flopping onto his bed that still smelled strongly of himself and Danny, and faintly of Scott. Rubbing his face through his covers, he grinned. "I'm going to sleep for like a week straight."

"Not this week," Scott said, landing beside him and offering him a chocolate chip cookie. He already had one shoved so deep into his mouth, Stiles was a little worried he'd choke.

"Why?" he whined, refusing to roll over.

"Because you promised Derek, Malia, and Cora that we'd come over for dinner tonight and mediate the family gathering."

"What? Why would we want to do that? It's like walking willingly to your own execution."

Scott rolled his eyes, stuffing the cookie he'd offered into his mouth. "Come on, they're not that bad. Dude, your dad's cookies taste like the ones my mom bakes. Do they use the same recipe?"

"Scottie, you know my dad. He would burn the house down if he even attempted to bake anything. Your mom probably brought them over while we were at your house. We were there for like two and a half hours." Stiles pushed himself up, running his hand through his hair. He supposed he should probably make himself at least slightly more presentable. "Where did they go anyway? Dad isn't on the night shift tonight. Is your mom?"

Scott frowned. "No, but the oven is still warm, and my mom didn't make anything beforehand… It doesn't take her long to make cookies and the dishes aren't done, so what were they doing all that time before?"

They glanced at each other, eyes wide, and shook their heads quickly. Stiles bounced up, tearing his shirt off over his head. "Nope. Nope nope nope. I want that thought nowhere near me. They just got called into work right after Melissa finished with the cookies. That's the story, and that's what I'm sticking to. Let's go eat and get eye-groped by Derek's crazy ass family."

"Maybe **you'll** get eye-groped, but I won't be, and their food is awesome," Scott said, following Stiles off the bed. "Stop primping for Derek, I'm hungry, Laura is waiting outside, and you've got a boyfriend already. Let's go."

"I am **not **primping," Stiles shot back, dropping his hands from his hair, "I do not primp. I always look fabulous."

"And that sounded really gay. Danny would be proud of you. Let's go."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles slapped Scott on the back as they headed down the stairs. Outside, Laura honked the horn of a sleek, black Camaro impatiently.

…..

"Stiles!" Talia cooed, descending on the boy in a whirl of motherly affection and curly dark hair. She hugged him to her chest, squeezing him tightly, nuzzling the side of his face. Her breath was warm against his skin, her heart strong beneath his palm. "How are you doing, son?"

Stiles grinned widely into her shoulder, only resisting her for the eyes of the people packed into the house. "Very well, Mrs. Hale, for all the hours of travel. What about you? How has your year been?" he asked, allowing himself to be wrapped in the warmth of her affection.

"Very well, very well," Talia told him, slowly releasing him as the others poured into the hallway.

Cora threw a punch into Stiles' shoulder then Scott's, rolling her eyes. "Took you guys long enough. Was it because Stilinski was primping?"

Stiles groaned as Scott laughed. "For the last time, I don't primp. Jackson primps. I make sure I don't look like my usual hobo-licious self."

"Really, Stiles? Hobo-licious?" Derek asked, ducking around an uncle or maybe cousin. Malia darted through the narrow alley he'd made to stand beside Cora.

Talia watched with a remarkable amount of interest as Stiles' eyes fell on her son, his smile spreading just a bit wider, his eyes sparkling. She greatly enjoyed watching their interactions. They had so many strong emotions directed towards each other, but so little knowledge of them. It was baffling and adorably and so, so irritating all at the same time.

Just to watch the fire race across their faces, she said with a wide, toothy smile, "So, I've planned your wedding for the July after you finish your schooling. Stiles, you'll be wearing an absolutely gorgeous dress." She was not disappointed.

"Mom!" Derek cried as Stiles screeched, "Mrs. Hale!" Their faces were the red of rubies as they stepped only a shoulder width apart.

"Oh, call me 'mom', Stiles. The moon knows it will happen soon enough," Talia told him, ignoring their indignation and moving to the kitchen, her husband shook his head in only minor disapproval.

Scott laughed, following Cora into the living room and leaving his best friend and Derek to the mercy of the Hales. They disappeared the living room, looking for Cards Against Humanity and Apples to Apples.

"You never told me you were engaged to one of my many **male** cousins," Malia said, her words like a snarl, accusation buried somewhere deep in the back of her voice. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, leaning her weight on her back foot, her eyes flashing blue.

"No, I am **not** engaged to Derek," Stiles said sternly, glancing around at the Hale family chattering around the hallway, "I'm **dating **Danny, and I have no intention of getting married any time soon. While some marriages succeed when the couple is young, those that don't, those that are broken by war, rival love, death, or simply that the couple was too young, they just leave broken people in their wake. I don't wish that on anyone, let alone myself."

The house was suddenly very quiet. "What if you found someone you love and wanted to be bonded to for forever?" Malia asked quietly.

"I wouldn't recognize it, and even if I did, I'd probably fuck it up somehow," Stiles muttered. The house was silent once more.

"So much cynicism for one so young. Where'd that come from, I wonder?" Peter asked, coming down the stairs.

Stiles had a retort on his tongue, one that would hurt him as much as it would shock and shut Peter up, but he held back. That was not what his mother's death meant to him. He would not disgrace her memory by saying something like that. He glared at Peter for a short moment before turning and marching into the kitchen.

The kitchen where he found Derek's parents leaned against each other, hips pressed back into the edge of the counter. They were wrapped in each other, eyes focused with the same intensity on him as he stormed through.

"Stiles," Derek said, hurrying after him. They stopped, staring at his parents. It only took them a moment before they were moving again, Stiles headed for Derek's bedroom. Though he'd never been upstairs, he knew somehow exactly which of the many rooms belonged to Derek.

"Get me drunk," Stiles said as Derek closed the door behind them.

"What?" Derek whispered like the entire house could hear every word they said.

"Get me drunk. Drunk off my ass. Make me forget that your uncle is an asshole and that I'm a terrible person."

"You're not a terrible person, Stiles, far from it," Derek tried to reason.

"I am, more than you know. So, get me drunk, and then we can discuss it."

Derek groaned, but had no time to reply as the door opened to a young boy with his hand over his eyes. "Uncle Derek, I don't want to know what you're doing up here, but Dad says it's time for dinner."

"Micah, we're not doing anything," Derek told the boy, prying his hand from his eyes, "I don't know what Uncle Peter has been telling you, but we're not like that."

"Uncle Derek, I may be nine-years-old, but even I know that's a lie," the boy said matter-of-factly, looking towards Stiles.

A wave of heat flushed through Stiles' body at the sight of him, a thin sheen of sweat cropping up along his skin. Watching as the pair bantered, the crackling of flames filled his ears, flickering and burning pressed in on his eyes. His cry, the cry for a father that didn't belong to him, rang high over the flames. The cry was Micah's voice.

He needed to sit down. '_I'm going to be sick_.'

"Um, Uncle Derek, I think your boyfriend is about to pass out. He doesn't sm- look too good," Micah pointed out as Stiles dropped to the window seat, rubbing at his forehead.

"Derek, you really need to get me drunk. Like right now. And maybe get me into a cold shower," Stiles grumbled.

Micah turned on a heel. "That's my cue to leave."

Grabbing his shoulder, Derek held him back. "Not like that, he's having a hot flash."

"What is he? A fifty year old woman going through menopause?"

"My life would be several times easier if I was," Stiles muttered.

Micah watched as Derek moved to Stiles, pushing the window open. "I think we should take him downstairs. Dad has that stash that'll get him drunk enough to pass out." He stared for a moment longer before muttering, his nose wrinkled, "You should probably get him changed. He smells like anxiety and sweat and… ashes? Whatever. Dinner's ready."

…..

"Derek, you and your boyfriend are just adorable," one of Derek's many family members cooed. She ruffled Stiles hair, drawing him to her. He laughed loudly, drunkenly, struggling in her grip.

Rubbing at his forehead, Derek tried to keep Scott from falling off the couch. He was falling asleep quickly, but the rest were all still going strong. "Once again, he's not my boyfriend. He's just my friend. Auntie, you're not even drunk, what the hell?"

"He sure as hell doesn't smell like he's not your boyfriend. He's got your scent all over him," she laughed, allowing Stiles freedom to stumble against Derek's shoulder. "He's even drawn to you like a magnet. Honestly, when are you two going to make it official? I hope I'm invited to the wedding."

Laura glanced between Derek and her family members. "Alright, I think I should take Scott and Malia home. Derek, you should put Stiles to bed. I don't think taking him home plastered is the best idea. We'll take him home tomorrow."

"Yeah, alright, thanks," Derek said, throwing her a grateful look as he passed Scott off to her. He scooped Stiles into his arms, ignoring the catcalls from his family. "See you tomorrow, Malia, Scott."

"Bye, Derek," the pair called back sleepily, following Laura out to the Camaro with combined yawns.

As Derek kicked his door shut, shutting out the voices of his family calling up to them, the Camaro roared to life outside. Placing Stiles on his bed, he set to work on removing the boy's shoes and socks.

Stiles giggled, fighting Derek every step of the way. "Is the big, bad wolf going to steal my virtue?" he laughed.

"I wouldn't take your virtue from you, even if you still had it," Derek said, tossing Stiles' legs onto the bed.

"What if I gave it to you?"

Derek stopped, one of his shoes in his hands and the other with fingers hooked around the edge. "You don't have virtue to give, at least not of the kind you're referring to," he replied after a spell, removing his shoe followed by his socks. He crawled onto the bed beside Stiles, pushing him below the covers.

"Work with me here, buns. I'm trying to get into your pants," Stiles complained, dragging Derek beneath the covers, "Be a sport."

The mortification of knowing that his entire family could most certainly hear everything that was going on flooded Derek's body, heating his cheeks. "Stiles, you're dating Danny and you're drunk," Derek tried to reason, wrapping his fingers around Stiles' wrists, holding him back.

"Come on, you know I'm hardly even buzzed. I'm barely half as drunk as I was that one time you and Danny both ended up in my bed and I somehow ended up on the floor."

"That doesn't change the fact that you are drunk."

"I am not drunk."

"Stiles-" Derek started, but a warm mouth was over his in the next second, newly experienced lips and tongue moving against his own. That's all it took to break his resolve, and suddenly, wished he was a little drunk too. He was pretty sure this was somewhere along the lines of emotional blackmail.

Derek was leaning over Stiles, pressing his shoulders into the bed when a loud knock broke them apart. They panted, staring wide-eyed at each other.

"Derek," Talia called through the door, laughter in her voice, "You guys need anything? Some snacks? A condom?"

"Mom, stop quoting _Mean Girls_!" Derek shouted back, face burning, but he didn't push away from Stiles.

"Oh, come on, darling! It's never a bad time for _Mean Girls_ quotes," Talia replied.

Groaning, Derek tried to roll away, but Stiles dragged him back against his body. "What do you want, Mom?"

"We're all going for a run. We'll be back in a few hours." She didn't wait for him to reply. Instead, there was a mass migration out of the house, then silence.

Stiles, impatient of waiting for Derek to finish with his listening, pulled Derek closer. "Where were we?"

…..

Stiles dragged himself from Derek's bed in the early hours of the morning, head pounding, hips aching worse than his first time. He pulled on a pair of Derek's well-loved sweatpants lying across the floor and pulled his shirt over his head. "Ugh, fuck hangovers," he groaned, shielding his eyes from the crawling sunlight, stumbling down the stairs.

"Good morning, Stiles," Talia's voice called softly from the kitchen on the scent of coffee, wafting towards him invitingly. "Slept well, I see."

Stiles followed her voice and the promise of caffeine, finding Talia already pushing a topped off cup towards him. A kettle of what he assumed was tea sat on the counter beside her, wrapped in one of those weird tea cozies which was embroidered with wolves. "Yeah, I suppose. No night terrors, no waking up feeling like a fire is slowly scorching my insides. Actually, besides the hangover, I don't think I've felt this good in weeks."

"Good, good, I'm glad, but please, Stiles, be sure you are not playing with my son's emotions. We may enjoy teasing the two of you about your relationship being something that it is not, but we do not wish for either of you to be hurt," Talia told him, only her top lip visible above the edge of her wolf mug. Why were there so many wolves in this house?

Stiles frowned at her, a question in his eyes, fingers wrapped around his own mug, one with Belle on it. "I don't understand."

Talia set her mug down, folding her hands together before her. "You are both young, Stiles, so I don't expect you to see or feel it right now, but there are things unique to our family and the people who come into it. Things that we who have felt its tug can see simply by observing you and Derek." She surveyed him before asking, "Did Derek ever tell you about Paige?"

Stiles shook his head. "No, only in passing, to calm me down when we first met. Other than that, I don't know anything about her."

Talia nodded. "That is a story I'm sure Derek will tell you when he is ready. Just know that Paige was dearly important to him, and when he lost her, he lost a part of himself. He's slowly begun to gain that part back, but if he loses another person that important to him, I do not think he will survive it. So be careful, my dear, don't say or do things you do not mean. Be sure of those that you do."

"I understand," Stiles whispered, staring into the murky water of his coffee, feeling Derek's words from the last night of term whispered on the back of his neck once more.

Blinking slowly, Talia unfolded herself from her chair, slipping her fingers around the handle of her mug. "Follow me, Stiles, I have something to show you."

Following after, Stiles blurted into the silence, "Derek isn't going to have an existential crisis about last night because I was a little drunk, right?" he asked, sudden worry flooding his system. He couldn't even care less that this was Derek's mother. She already knew, so what was the point in hiding it?

"Oh, I'm sure he's already having one."

"Shit," Stiles whispered.

"You can go try to reason with him in a moment. Come over here for a second." Talia held a photo album in her hands, her cup discarded on the mantle, the book cracked down the middle.

Trotting over, Stiles glanced down at the open page. "Hey! That's my mother!" he cried, eyes already beginning to burn. He scrubbed at them, wanting to see the images without them being distorted.

"That it is, and that is me beside her. I'll bet you didn't know, but we were the best of friends, even after we left Hogwarts and started our own families. We were in Gryffindor together, but different years. She was younger than me, but incredibly smart, like the Sheriff. Even so, I was drawn to her like a moth to flames. She burned so brilliantly, it was a wonder everyone didn't want to be at her side, but only the oddest of fellows migrated to her, similar to you and your friends." She laughed quietly at a picture of the pair chugging butterbear in the Three Broomsticks, splashing the liquid down their fronts. "That's something for me to explain later though. You should probably know that, like her, you will attract both good and wicked beings. You'll need to be extremely careful."

Stiles gave her a puzzled look, but she plowed ahead without pause.

"What do you know of bonds, Stiles?"

"Not anything noteworthy."

"Well, for this particular lesson, you need to know that they can arise from many things, particularly friendship and finding a mate. Both of those I just mentioned are equally powerful and unique to the Hales in that we feel these bonds form, and they are unnaturally strong, particularly the bond between mates. I formed a bond through friendship with your mother as you have with Scott. That type of bond forms near instantaneously and is extremely strong, but rather easily broken. On the other hand, you have the bond formed between mates, like that formed between your parents or Derek's father and myself. That bond forms slowly and then all at once, and is almost impossible to break. Death is one of the only things that can destroy it, but it is easily mistaken for a bond of friendship. That mistake happened between you mother and I, and nearly tore us apart. So when I say tread lightly, heed my words. It is a miserable thing to have a fraying friendship. Just know which is which, especially with someone fragile."

Confusion settled deep in Stiles' bones. Mates? Friendships? His mother and Talia Hale? What was she even talking about? Why did all of Derek's family talk and act so weirdly?

Out of the album, a ring hung on a thick silver chain clattered to the wooden floor. Scooping it up, Stiles stared at the simple silver band with one blue gem inlaid in the metal.

"Oh, that was your mother's. She told me to give it to you when you were old enough, that it would help you discover yourself as it helped her. It used to be engraved," Talia told him, eyes scanning over the smooth metal, "I think you should take it now. And this album as well. I have a feeling they'll be safer with you."

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I wouldn't be offering if I weren't," Talia told him, grinning and pressing the book into his chest.

"Thank you, Mom!" he shouted without thinking, wrapping his arms around her before darting up the stairs, coffee, album and ring in hand.

Smiling sadly, Talia picked up her mug. Over the rim, she mumbled, "You've got quite a boy there, Claudia, strong and smart like you, but I wonder, will he able to handle what he is? I get the feeling that I'm not going to be here to help him much longer."

**Well, there you go. So, we're starting to find out a little about Stiles. Derek and him finally did it, but there will be more to that later. I don't know where it came from, but suddenly, I started loving the idea that Claudia and Talia were very close best friends. I don't know, I adore the idea, and it'll probably come up again later, but tell me how you guys felt towards it.**


	10. Chapter 10: Regret and Admissions

**I already had this chapter in the works when I posted the last so I decided to finish this and post. This chapter actually made me a little sad towards the end.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

Chapter 10: Regret and Admissions

"Stiles, Derek! You up here?" Scott called, tapping lightly on Derek's bedroom door, pushing into the small space. He found the pair sprawled across Derek's bed, books and comics open across their knees, Stiles glancing at one under his top comic every few seconds. "Hey, just wanted to make sure your family didn't sew you together or something equally crazy." He almost missed the fact that Stiles was wearing a pair of Derek's sweatpants, and they'd somehow exchanged shirts. "So, what happened after Laura took Malia and me home?"

The pair pointedly refused to look at each other. "We went to bed, and then Derek had an existential crisis this morning," Stiles said conversationally, snapping the book he'd been glancing at shut and readjusting a plain silver ring on a thick chain around his neck, tucking it beneath his shirt.

"I was not having an existential crisis," Derek snarled, shoving Stiles off the bed. Getting up, he went in search of a relatively clean pair of pants.

"Yes, you were. I came up here after talking to your mom and you were all wide-eyed and freaking out," Stiles quipped back, searching for his own pants.

Scott kicked them at his face with a laugh. "Danny's looking for you, said you weren't answering your phone, and Malia wants to know if you guys want to go play paintball. She invited the others, and even Lydia agreed."

"Uh, that might perhaps be because I lost my phone somewhere around three in the morning?" Stiles said, struggling to pull his pants over his still rather sore hips. He growled, jerking at the material.

"Maybe it's shoved up your ass like your head," Derek shot at him, stripping off his pants and pulling on the ones he'd found.

Sitting up and turning to Derek, he said with the straightest face he possessed, "There were things shoved up my ass last night, but we both know none of them were my phone or my head. I may be flexible, but not that flexible."

Derek's ears blushed an entirely new shade of red. If he'd been anywhere near Stiles, he would have demonstrated exactly how flexible Stiles could be, and not in any good way.

"Are we going to go, or not?" Scott suddenly cut in, discomfort washing over him, "Because Malia, Laura, and Cora are waiting downstairs, and I'm not looking to piss any of them off. I quite like my privates where they are."

Stiles turned a blinding smile onto his best friend. "So will the girlfriend you'll have in the next couple years, or year."

"Harry Potter's underpants, I'm leaving. It's too early for innuendo slinging," Scott said quickly, throwing in the metaphorical towel, and escaping from the room before anything more could be said.

"It's never too early for innuendo slinging!" Stiles shouted after him, falling sideways back to the floor as he leaned towards the door. "Wimp, can't handle my innuendo game."

"Stiles," Derek snapped sternly, standing over him.

"Yes?" Stiles asked sweetly, grinning too widely.

"Never say that again. It sounds stupid."

"Aw, come on! I'm being trendy!"

"Be trendy in some other way that's not stupid."

Sticking out his bottom lip in a childish pout, Stiles grumbled, "You're no fun."

Derek dropped to his knees beside Stiles, leaning over him with a smirk curling across his lips. "You weren't saying that last night."

With the raise of an eyebrow, Stiles propped himself up to meet Derek's mouth. "No, I wasn't," he agreed, grinning into the kiss. They were well on their way to having to find their clothes on the floor again when Cora's voice echoed to them from down the hallway.

"You guys are fucking disgusting! Stilinski, you have a boyfriend! Derek, stop being a home wreaker!" she screeched, breaking them apart with a hard roll of their eyes, "We can hear everything you two are doing, and if I have to hear someone's tongue being shoved down someone else's throat one more time, I'm going to vomit and then we're going to leave you to clean it up!"

"We're coming!" Derek shouted back irritably, pulling Stiles to his feet. He shoved his shoes on, then took off down the hall, taking the stairs three at a time to plow into Cora. They went rolling into the living room, snarling and snapping their teeth at each other like puppies.

"Yo, don't hurt each other! We haven't even started the game yet!" Laura shot at the pair.

Stiles descended the stairs quickly, grinning at everyone. Laura wrinkled her nose at him. "What's that nasty look for?" Stiles asked defensively.

"Nothing, but I'm going to spray you with the cologne I have in the car. I don't want two people smelling like my brother in such close proximity to me," Laura told him distastefully, jerking open the door and heading towards the car.

Stiles gaped after her, and even Scott's laugh barely registered in the back of his mind. "What the holy hell is wrong with this family?!" he shouted, darting after her.

…..

"What is it?" Danny murmured, nuzzling the top of Stiles' head as they watched the movie play across the white screen. They were parked in the middle at the drive-in theater sitting in the back of Danny's truck, a blanket draped around them. Stiles was pressed back into Danny's chest, absorbing every type of Danny's warmth. "You've been very quiet all night. Is something wrong?"

Stiles shifted off one of the many bruises he'd sustained throughout the day full of paintball games, trying to find a more comfortable position to sit. "I guess," he started slowly, "I'm feeling a bit guilty. A lot guilty. And sitting here with you like something didn't happen makes me feel all the more guilty. I'm sorry."

"You haven't told me what you did yet, so why are you apologizing?" Danny asked, picking at a spot of neon blue paint Stiles had missed while showering.

"Because it's despicable, and I don't want you to hate me even though you have every right to," Stiles muttered, hiking the blanket up against his nose.

Danny was silent for a moment, combing his fingers almost lovingly through Stiles' hair. He smiled softly. "You actually slept with him, didn't you?" he asked, resting his chin on Stiles' head so he couldn't turn to look at him. He wasn't angry, just sad for some reason.

Stiles still tried to twist around. "I'm really sorry. Please don't hate me. I know that cheaters are the worst, but I don't want you to see me like you see your ex. I'd try to make the excuse that I was drunk, but that's a really shitty excuse because you still know right from wrong when intoxicated, and I knew what I was doing. I'm so sorry."

Objectively, Danny knew he had the right to feel betrayed, to be angry, but he also knew that he'd been bringing this down upon himself when he'd decided to date Stiles. Manipulating people's emotions had to have a price, and he supposed that growing feeling for Stiles and then have them crushed was the price. "It's alright, Stiles, I don't see you like my ex and I don't hate you. I'm not angry."

"What? Really? Why? You should hate me. You should be screaming and possibly cursing me. You have every right to. Why aren't you?" Stiles twisted around in Danny's arms, scanning over his face. Realization dawned like a blow to the stomach. "Oh my god, you know it would happen. Why? How?!"

Danny, still smiling, placed a quick kiss across Stiles' lips. "Because you two share a bed nearly every night. It was bound to happen eventually with the way you two eye-fuck each other when even people are looking."

"Why didn't you try to stop it?"

"Because you sleep the best when Derek is in your bed," Danny sighed, staring over Stiles' shoulder at the Sheriff and Melissa McCall walking by. Stiles tracked them with little interest, hands gripping the front of Danny's shirt. "When you don't sleep, you look like hell, like you could drop dead from some unknown disease at any time. It hurts me to see you like that, that's why I let it go. I'm happier when you're healthy and happy."

Stiles bit his bottom lip. "I would… stop if you asked me to. I don't think I'd have the strength to let someone I cared about –you- sleep with another person. I would stop if you asked me."

Danny shook his head quickly. "Don't do that. I don't want you to go back to looking like you'd keel over. Just… keep the sex to a minimum… to zero if you two can swing it. Unless you two are up for a threesome, then we might negotiate."

Stiles gaped at Danny, eyes wide, mouth flopped open. "Seriously?" he squeaked.

Rolling his eyes, Danny pressed Stiles' mouth closed. "No, you dork. I don't want to intrude on your guys' –hopefully- nonexistent sex life as much as I don't want him intruding on ours."

"Oh," Stiles murmured, then grinned. "I'll tell Derek that we can't do stuff like that."

"We'll see how long that lasts," Danny said with a roll of his eyes.

Stiles pressed a kiss to Danny's mouth. "Have a little faith."

…..

Stiles was sitting at the kitchen table in the dark when his father walked through the front door. A bar of light cut across his face and the cookie sticking out of his mouth, but the Sheriff didn't see him. When the door shut, cutting off the light, Stiles said into the darkness, "So, I saw you and Scott's mom at the drive-in earlier. Care to explain why you're so late?" He flipped on an LED flashlight, illuminating the Sheriff's face.

"Shit!" the Sheriff groaned, rubbing at his forehead, "Stiles, what the hell are you doing? You nearly gave me a heart attack, and shut off the flashlight."

"**I'm** asking the questions," Stiles said sternly, but flicked the light towards the light switch.

"I didn't realize you and Danny had gone to the drive-in for your date," Stilinski said, flipping on the kitchen light. He grabbed a beer from the fridge before taking a seat and a cookie.

Stiles pursed his lips. "Avoiding the question. Useful tact, but it won't divert my focus."

"How was your date?" the Sheriff asked anyway, leaning back in his chair, watching his son.

Stiles had been sure to cover any hickeys he'd sustained from Danny and Derek, unlike his father who probably didn't even know of their little purple existence on his neck. "Good, very good, what about yours?" He smiled broadly.

"It wasn't… a date. It was an… outing," Stilinski said slowly, measuring his words, but he was getting flustered, and he couldn't rightly stop that.

"You mean foreplay," Stiles said simply. At the utter shock and internal screaming on his father's face, Stiles laughed. "Kidding, kidding, but honestly Dad, if you and Madame McCall are doing the do and dating, I'm okay with it. You should be happy, and she's an awesome person. It'd be great for Scott to actually be my brother."

"Whoa! Slow down there, Stiles! It was just one date," the Sheriff said quickly, ears coloring with a soft flush.

"Dad, I'm fifteen-years-old, not blind. I know you guys have been seeing each other longer than that," Stiles pointed out, "The house is clean, the cookies, Madame McCall's two and a half hour disappearance… should I go on? Honestly, has she been coming out here every weekend?"

The Sheriff groaned, running his hands down his face. "I don't have to explain myself to anyone, let alone my fifteen-year-old son."

Stiles simply raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fine, have it your way. Yes, we have been seeing each other. Yes, she's been coming out most weekends."

"Really?" Stiles asked, the other eyebrow joining the first, "That was just a wild guess. Wait, how has she been getting over here? She can't be flying each time, and a broomstick only goes so fast."

The Sheriff shook his head. "No, she's been practicing apparating. Still… uh, what is it called, spl- splashing? No. Slicing? No. Uh…"

"Splicing? You almost had it."

"Yeah, that. She still splices herself a lot. I still haven't scrubbed all of the blood out of the entryway carpet from last time." They were quiet, simply surveying each other. "Happy now?"

"Very. A cookie?" Stiles asked, offering his father the plate, one already shoved in his mouth.

The Sheriff reached over, taking a handful before Stiles could slap them out of his hand. "Thanks. So, your date with Danny."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles set the plate down. "I said **a** cookie, not a baker's dozen. And I already told you, it was fine. Jackson didn't try to interrupt us, like the first date we had, and I didn't get turned into a squirrel, like the last date we had."

"Someone turned you into a squirrel?"

Stiles waved his hand through the air nonchalantly. "Some Fifth Year pissed off that Lydia and then I wouldn't help him ace his O.W.L.s, or more rightly, screw him after studying. It's hard being rejected by two very attractive people younger than you in the same day. Contrary to popular belief, '_It won't suck itself_,' is not a proper response to being rejected. Lydia almost turned the guy inside out when she learned that he went to me and pulled that shit. She was **pissed**. It was glorious."

"What kind of school did I send you to?" Stilinski said with just a dash of disbelief.

"A magical one with magical teenage hormones…" Stiles trailed off, worrying at a sleeve cuff. Finally, he blurted, "Dad, if someone cheats on you, do you think you should be pissed at them and break up with them? Or do you think it's possible to forgive them?"

"Did Danny cheat on you?" the Sheriff asked sharply.

"No…" Stiles mumbled, regret and shame pulling his eyes to his hands.

"Did you… cheat on Danny?"

"Yes…" Stiles whispered, voice growing smaller.

The Sheriff closed his eyes, and sighed deeply. "I thought I'd taught you better. If Danny isn't angry with you, I can't do anything about it, but I hope you know I am deeply disappointed in you." Standing, he took his beer and the plate of cookies, and headed for the living room.

"I know," Stiles muttered, staying in his seat and wishing simply that he could rewind the twenty-four hours and reverse what he'd done.

…..

Stiles trudged up to his bedroom, pushing open the door quietly. He slipped through the crack, pressing his back against the door and sliding down it once inside. "My dad hates me," he whispered, pressing his face into his knees. A sob shook his shoulders that he could just barely quiet.

"Stiles?" Derek's whispered suddenly from across the room, climbing through his open window, "Stiles, what's wrong? What happened?"

Lifting his head, Stiles watched through a sheen of tears as Derek moved towards him, the light of the nearly full moon playing across his form. His eyes glowed steel blue, scanning over him in the dark. "Derek," he whispered, chin quavering.

Dropping down in front of him, Derek ran a gentle hand over Stiles' cheek. "What happened? Why are you crying?" he asked, leaning closer.

Stiles bit his lower lip, staring at him. "I'm a terrible person," he whispered, eyes narrowed against the burning of his eyes, "And my father hates me. I don't want him to hate me, but I can't take back what I did. I don't know what to do."

"It's going to be alright, don't worry. I'm sure your father doesn't hate you. He loves you. You're his family," Derek tried to reason, pulling Stiles up and into his arms. He steered them towards the bed, pushing him down to sit.

Stiles shook his head. "You can love your family and not like them at all. You didn't see the look on his face."

"No, I didn't, but if there's one thing I am sure about, it's that your father could never hate you. There is nothing in this world that could make your father hate you."

"You don't know that."

"I do. You just have to trust me on this one, alright?" Derek told him, sitting on the bed beside him, "You should go to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, everything will have blown over. You just need to sleep."

Stiles stared at Derek, unable to stop the tears from slipping down his cheeks. He knew what he should do, but he could already feel his heart breaking. "Derek," he whispered, bringing the other's attention to him, "I think… I think you… I think you need to go."

Derek's eyebrows pulled together, confusion filling his blue eyes. "What? I don't understand. I thought…"

"No, Derek, I- I need you to leave. I can't- I don't want- You shouldn't be here. I'm sorry, but I need you to go," Stiles whispered, voice wavering.

"That… sounded like a lie. Stiles, why are you lying to me?" Derek asked, staring at him, hurt beginning to take over the confusion.

"I'm- I'm not! I'm not lying! I just need you to go!" Stiles sobbed, stumbling up and away from his bed, rubbing away the tears on his cheeks only for more to take their place.

"I don't understand," Derek said, standing and reaching for Stiles.

Stiles jerked away from him. "You don't have to. Leave. Just leave, okay."

Scowling, Derek turned on a heel, climbing out the window. "Fine, whatever, I don't need the truth, see what I care when you wake up screaming."

"Derek," Stiles started, reaching for him, regret forcing him forward.

"No, you want me to leave. I'm leaving. Have a nice summer," Derek growled and was gone.

Stiles dropped to his knees, staring at his window. As his sobs became harder, filling the room, and his father came rushing in, he heard the lonely cry of a wolf in the woods.

**Well, that's a depressing turn of events that I didn't mean to happen. Yeah… so, see you next chapter. Hopefully it won't take me too long. One question though, do you guys want Allison to come in this upcoming year or in sixth year. I have plans for the both years because I'm not sure which to choose, but my original plan was for her to come in during sixth year.**


	11. Chapter 11: Heartbreak and the Hales

**So, this is the last chapter if I can't get another one up before Monday. I'll be shipping off to Basic in the next couple days. So if I don't post again before Monday, I'll see you all at the end of November.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

Chapter 11: Heartbreak and the Hales

"Stiles," Danny said, scratching his quill across his parchment with only minimal interest. He'd already finished his essay for Professor Calavera and had resorted to doodling along the edges, docked grades be damned.

"What's up?" Stiles asked, shoving his second roll of parchment away to start on the last of his homework. He had his feet propped up on Danny's knees and reached blindly for Danny's drink.

Danny looked up, studying Stiles. He pushed his drink towards him, cheek resting in his hand. "Let's go on a date."

"Absolutely. When and where?" Stiles glanced up quickly, throwing Danny a wide, sparkling grin before returning to his homework. He growled derisively at the subject.

"Right now. Hogsmeade."

Stiles fumbled his quill, splattering ink across the table, but somehow missing their parchment. "Like, literally, right now?" he asked, gaping at his boyfriend.

"Yes, just as you are. We'll get cloaks and go," Danny said.

Glancing between his clothes that he'd happily dubbed his hobo attire, baggy sweatpants and a ridiculous crop top that showed off his blindingly white stomach, and his boyfriend who sported a muscle shirt and tight fitting pants, he stammered, "I've been up for thirty-six hours. I took a shower more than twenty-four hours ago. I'm hobo-licious right now."

"That's fine. So am I," Danny said, smiling as Stiles glowered at him, "I've been up with you this entire time, and that shower was shared. It'll be fine."

"Danny, you look like a supermodel no matter what you wear or how long you've seemingly been awake," Stiles pointed out, plucking at his shirt.

"And you look fine." Stiles didn't answer. "If I give you time to brush your teeth and put on a pair of pants, then will you go? I'll get you a peppermint toad from Honeydukes."

Stiles grinned. "Well, if that's the case, let's go!" Gathering their things, he sprinted from the Great Hall, Danny close behind shaking his head.

From across the Hall, Derek watched the pair tear out of the room, grins spread across their faces. Beside him, Scott groaned over his homework. He and Stiles had been separated earlier in the day because they simply couldn't concentrate. Now, Derek was stuck with him, and still managed to listen in on Stiles' conversation.

"Scott," Derek said, turning to the other teen slowly making his way to the floor.

"What?" Scott mumbled, head firmly pressed to the table.

"Let's go to Hogsmeade."

Scott groaned loudly. "But I still have half a roll before I'm done with Professor Calavera's essay," he whined, "And then I have Harris' work and my mom's too. Why do you want to go to Hogsmeade anyway?"

"Just get up and let's go. I'll help you when we get back," Derek shot back, dragging Scott to his feet.

"Ugh, fine!"

…..

"No, seriously, why are we here?" Scott grumbled into his cup of hot chocolate. Derek had laced it with a healthy dose of firewhiskey, and Scott was starting to feel it burn through his body. His pettiness was beginning to come out full force, but he knew that the cuddling would be coming quickly after if he continued drinking.

Derek, from behind a support beam, murmured, "Following Stiles and Danny." He peaked around the beam, watching the pair tramp through an early snow.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Scott complained, leaning around Derek to confirm that that was exactly what they were doing. "Are you fucking kidding me? You know they can see you perfectly fine, right?"

Derek made only a vague noise to indicate that he'd heard Scott speak. Whether he'd comprehended his words or not was a different story. "They're going to the Shrieking Shack. Why does everybody go there?"

"Honestly, why don't you just tell Stiles that you like him and want to bend him over a table? It is literally that easy," Scott groused, following dutifully after Derek to make sure he didn't do something unfailingly stupid.

Derek stopped, turning wide, astonished eyes on Scott. "You don't know? I thought he'd have told you the day after it happened."

"Told me what?" Scott sighed, blinking slowly at him.

"I didn't bend him over a table."

Scott stared back at him blankly. "Okay, what does that have to do with this?"

"**Scott**," Derek emphasized, glaring at him.

For a long, hazy moment, Scott stared back. Finally, realization clicked almost audibly, his mouth popping open. "Oh! Then what the hell's the problem?! And I thought my dating life was screwed up."

"You don't have a dating life," Derek pointed out, falling further and further behind the happy couple they were trailing.

"You don't know that!" Scott cried loudly enough that it caught Danny and Stiles' attention, pulling them to a stop. Derek dragged Scott into the bushes, pushing his face into the snow to smother his mouth as the pair glanced around.

…..

"It's so pretty out here," Stiles crowed, licking melted chocolate from his fingers and grinning widely. "I could live out here." When Danny stayed silent, he glanced over to him. "Hey, what's the matter?" he asked, bumping hips with him.

Danny sighed, glancing over at Stiles. Turning, he asked straight out, "Stiles, how do you feel about me?"

Eyes going wide, Stiles spluttered, "Well, I really, really, really –I mean pretty seriously- like you. Sometimes, I even think I lo-"

Danny cut him off quickly. "Don't say that," he said sadly.

"Say what? That I think I love you? We've been dating for nearly a year now. I think I have the right to say that," Stiles snapped defensively, worry twisting his insides. If he'd put himself out there just for Danny to tell him that he didn't feel the same way, he didn't know what he'd do.

"No, because you're in love with someone else, not me," Danny told him.

Stiles gaped. "How can you say that? A year, Danny, a fucking year, and you're going to throw that in my face?"

"You know as well as I do that you've been in love with someone else since we started dating, probably even before then. Don't tell me that you aren't."

Stiles quickly snapped his mouth shut, staring at Danny with pleading eyes.

Danny untwisted his fingers from Stiles, and stepped away. "I'm sorry, Stiles, but I can't be with you if your emotions are on someone else."

"Danny, don't do this, please," Stiles whispered, reaching for Danny's hands again. Tears burned the back of his eyes, and he just barely forced down a hiccup.

Pulling further away, Danny shook his head. "No, Stiles, I'm sorry. I just can't do it." Turning quickly before he could change his mind, he left Stiles falling apart and went to find Derek and Scott still arguing in a bush further up the path.

Dragging the unsuspecting Derek up, he slammed him hard against a tree, startling the pair. "Scott, you go comfort your best friend," Danny ordered, never taking his eyes from Derek.

"You knew the whole time?" Scott squeaked, hardly astonished, "I fucking told you, Derek! You can suck it!"

"Scott," Danny snarled, shooting an ugly glare at the other boy.

"Oh, right," Scott mumbled quickly, scurrying away down the path. He took off at a sprint, worry finally seizing him and pushing him toward his best friend.

Danny turned his gaze back to Derek. "I swear to Helga Hufflepuff, if you do not seize this opportunity I just set out for you, I will cut off your manhood, feed it to a dragon, and take Stiles as my wife. Do **not **fucking tempt me. I just hurt Stiles and myself so that you can make him happy. If you don't, mark my words, I will dish out on my threats. I will do terrible things to you," he snarled.

Releasing Derek's collar, he stormed back towards the castle, intent on drowning himself in alcohol, and coaxing Jackson into playing some very drunk quidditch with him. If they were lucky, one of them would end up in the Hospital Wing by the end of the night. Trying to rub away the heat behind his eyes, he tried not to think of what he might have just caused.

…..

_The night was quiet, cool. The moon rose high in the sky, nearly full, gleaming in all its glory. "Mom, can we go for a run?" Stiles asked, turning to a woman to his right. She had brunette hair falling around her face in thick, soft curls. Her eyes were a startling blue. She looked like the gender bent version of Peter._

"_I don't know, sweetheart," she said, glancing over her shoulder to Talia, "It's up to the alpha if we do or not."_

_Talia pursed her lips, glaring out the window. "I don't think that would be a good idea tonight. I've been smelling hunters for a few hours now. Argents. It's best we stay inside."_

_Stiles glowered at the door, his bottom lip poked out in a pout. "Why can't they just leave us alone? We haven't done anything. Nobody new has been turned. Nobody has died. I don't see why they have to keep trying to hurt us."_

"_Some of the Argents are worse than the others. Some follow a code, and then others don't. Let's just stay inside tonight. We'll take an extra-long run tomorrow," Talia promised him, stepping away from the window, letting the curtains fall shut._

_Talia and the female Peter stepped away, ruffling his hair, moving into the living room._

_Stiles glowered at the door, pulling the curtains aside to glare out into the night. "It's not fair," he grumbled._

_He wasn't expecting the door to be blown open. He jumped back, out of the way of debris, but not quick enough as a thin cord snapped tight around his throat. A howl crawled up his throat passed the wire, ringing through the house._

_A man laughed. "Good, you got a pup." Another wire snapped tight around his wrists, tying them together._

_A woman's voice rose above the man's as he was pulled sharply forward into the face of Kate Argent. "Throw out the ash, make sure the others can't cross."_

"_Micah!" the woman from earlier shouted, slamming against the line of mountain ash. She snarled, her eyes glowing steel blue, claws and fangs raking against the wall. "Give him back to me, bitch!"_

_Kate tsk-ed, shaking her head. "Such bad manners. I would think you'd be kinder since I have one of your pups at my mercy."_

_Talia stood in the doorway to the living room, her eyes crimson, a snarl on her lips. She was already beginning to change. "You will release him." Her words were more animal than human._

"_I think not," Kate laughed, smiling widely. She spun Stiles towards everyone who had gathered against the mountain ash line, all half transformed. She pressed a delicate blade to his throat. "I won't hurt this little crumpet of sunshine as long as every animal in your pack backs up and gets into the basement. Otherwise, I won't hesitate to carve his heart out."_

_The pack stared back at her, hackles raised in challenge. "Into the basement," Talia said, backing slowly towards the door. The rest followed hesitantly after her, ducking into the basement. Talia remained by the open door, hatred in her eyes._

"_Set the next line!" Kate instructed, waiting for the men to throw down the next line before breaking the first and dragging Stiles across is. He hissed and snarled, struggling against her hold, but the cord only tightened around his throat. "Hold still or I will cut your throat," Kate hissed in his ear._

_Stiles stilled in her hold, staring pleadingly at Talia._

"_Get in the basement," Kate instructed, smiling widely at Talia. Glaring fixedly, Talia backed herself down a few steps. Kate broke the line, shoving Stiles through the door at Talia, and set another line. "Let's move out!" she shouted, moving back out the front door._

_Stiles crashed hard into Talia's arms, the breath rushing from his lungs. Talia untangled the wide from his throat and wrists. "What are they going to do to us?" he asked, fear in his voice._

"_I don't know," Talia whispered, pulling him down the stairs._

_The scent of gasoline pressed in on his nostrils, overtaking any other smell. In an instant, flames came to life, rolling down the walls and across the floor. Screams rose high and sudden, overlaid with the laughter of the men and Kate Argent outside._

Stiles woke with a gasp, sweat slicking his skin. He reached out across his crumpled sheets, looking for the other body usually beside him, but his bed was empty. "Fuck," he whispered, scrubbing the back of his hand across his eyes.

What was wrong with his dreams? People being burned to death and transforming into some weird werewolf thing, packs and fucking Kate Argent. Couldn't he finally be rid of her? His skin burned like he'd been burning with them, and his throat and wrists throbbed where the cord had been tied around them.

His eyes popped wide, staring at the ceiling of his bed in shock. "Was that Peter in a dress?" he asked himself too loudly.

To his left, Jackson groaned. "Can't you have one night of full sleep? Go the fuck to bed, Stilinski, and stop spewing nonsense."

…..

"Go away," Stiles whined, bundling himself tighter in his comforter. On his dresser, the tip of his wand released a thick stream of blue smoke, leaving Scott coughing.

Waving away the smoke, Scott choked, "I didn't even know you could do that without even touching your wand. Jesus, you're emotional right now." He paused, slowly smacking his lips, eyebrows firmly pulled together. "It tastes like blueberries. You are messed up right now."

"Go away," Stiles repeated. A hand snaked out from under the covers, flapping it around and slapping at Scott.

"Hey, no need to get violent," Scott laughed.

"Then go away!"

Scott rolled his eyes. "You've been in here for a week. Peter has turned to tormenting Lydia, though that hasn't exactly worked out well for him. Our teachers are wondering how the hell you're still getting your homework done and turned in on time. I actually came in here for something important." He waited to see if that would get a rise out of his best friend, but nothing. "I came in here because Derek is missing."

"Why should I care?" Stiles finally grumbled, tightening the blanket around him like armor against the world.

"Maybe because all of the Hales are missing, not just Derek. Literally, Peter, Malia, Laura, Cora and Derek. They're all missing," Scott pointed out in exasperation.

Stiles sat up straight, blurry, sleep-deprived eyes focusing on his best friend. "Even Malia? What happened? Does anyone know where they might have gone?" he asked frantically, rubbing grit from his eyes.

Scott shook his head. "No, not at all. Today, during the post, they were each delivered an identical letter from the look of it, and after reading it, they all ran out. Malia, Laura and Cora were in tears. Derek and Peter looked pissed. Nobody knows where they are. We need everybody's help to look for them. We've got everybody ready, but you."

Throwing his covers away, Stiles changed into socially acceptable clothing. "I'm going to check the Divination Tower, then the woods! Someone should check the Room of Requirements, I think," Stiles called as he raced from the Slytherin dormitories, booking it toward the tower.

"Where could those idiots have gone?" Stiles mumbled to himself, taking the stairs two at a time. He was halfway up to the tower before he realized that none of them would remotely be anywhere in the castle. "Shit!" he snarled, turning and booking it back down the stairs.

Cora and Malia were most likely hiding somewhere in the woods working out to death, maybe even fighting each other to the death. Peter had probably taken a passageway into Hogsmeade, and immediately apparated to wherever he needed to go. Laura had most likely immediately jumped a broomstick and taken off. Stiles had a feeling that Derek had made his way into the Shrieking Shack to maybe break something.

Stiles groaned with realization. "Oh my fucking- Stupid, stupid Hales," he growled, rushing passed a curious Lydia. "I will strangle-"

"Stiles, where are you going?" Lydia asked on her way to the Room of Requirements, watching him rush towards the grounds of the castle.

"I'm going to go find an idiot before he breaks himself. Cover for me with the teachers if any come asking about me, please."

"Of course, who do you think I am?" Lydia asked indignantly.

"A lovely, lovely witch," Stiles told her with a wide grin, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Lydia called after him as he took off, "Where are Cora, Malia, Peter and Laura?"

"Woods, apparated, broom. Probably. Most likely. I'll be back soon! Hopefully in one piece," he called over his shoulder, disappearing into the approaching night.

**So, I'm sorry that this chapter is short, but I had to wait on some things I want to do more for the next couple chapters. If I don't get another chapter up before Monday, then the next chapter won't be until the end of November when I get out of Basic. Sorry, guys.**


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